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THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  ILLINOIS 

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OAK  ST.  HDSF 


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flu u 1339 

ytl  A-  A*  IuhU 
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i 

11148-S 

LESSON  NO.  I, 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS 


BY 

THOMAS  HUGHES, 


NEW  YORK: 

WILLIAM  L.  ALLISON,  PUBLISHER., 
93  Chambers  Street. 


MRS.  ARNOLD, 


OF  FOX  HOWE, 


THIS  BOOK  IS  (WITHOUT  HER  PERMISSION) 


DEDICATED 


BY  THE  AUTHOR. 


WHO  OWES  MORE  THAN  HE  CAN  EVER  ACKNOWLEDGE  OR  FORGET  TO 


HER  AND  HERS* 


938498 


CONTENTS 


PART  I. 

CHAPTER  I PAGE. 

The  Brown  Family - 15 

CHAPTER  II. 

The  Yeast 29 

CHAPTER  III. 

Sundry  Wars  and  Alliances ....... 45 

CHAPTER  IY. 

The  Stage  Coach 62 

CHAPTER  Y. 

Rugby  and  Football. 75 

CHAPTER  YI. 

After  the  Match 92 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Settling  to  the  Collar 107 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  War  of  Independence 124 

CHAPTER  IX, 

A Chapter  of  Accidents 142 

PART  II. 

CHAPTER  I. 

How  the  Tide  Turned 161 

CHAPTER  II. 

The  New  Boy 172 

CHAPTER  III. 

Arthur  Makes  a Friend 1S3 


CONTENTS . 


CHAPTER  IV. 

PAGE, 

The  Bird  Fanciers . . 195 

CHAPTER  V. 

The  Fight. 206 

CHAPTER  VI. 

The  Fever 221 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Harry  East’s  Dilemmas  and  Deliverances. . . 236 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Tom  Brown’s  Last  Match . 251 

CHAPTER  IX 

Finis 268 


PREFACE 


TO  THE  SIXTH  EDITION. 

I received  the  following  letter  from  an  old  friend  soon 
after  the  last  edition  of  this  book  was  published,  and  re- 
solved if  ever  another  edition  were  called  for,  to  print  it. 
For  it  is  clear  from  this  and  other  like  comments,  that 
something  more  should  have  been  said  expressly  on  the 
subject  of  bullying,  and  how  it  is  to  be  met. 

“ My  dear , 

“ I blame  myself  for  not  having  earlier  suggested  whether 
you  could  not,  in  another  edition  of  Tom  Brown,  or  another 
story,  denounce  more  decidedly  the  evils  of  bullying  at  schools. 
You  have  indeed  done  so,  and  in  the  best  way,  by  making 
Flashman  the  bully  the  most  contemptible  character ; but  in 
that  scene  of  the  tossing , and  similar  passages,  you  hardly  suggest 
that  such  things  should  be  stopped — and  do  not  suggest  any 
means  of  putting  an  end  to  them. 

“This  subject  has  been  on  my  mind  for  years.  It  fills  me 
with  grief  and  misery  to  think  what  weak  and  nervous  children 
go  through  at  school — how  their  health  and  character  for  life  are 
destroyed  by  rough  and  brutal  treatment. 

“ It  was  some  comfort  to  be  under  the  old  delusion  that  fear 
and  nervousness  can  be  cured  by  violence,  and  that  knocking 
about  will  turn  a timid  boy  into  a bold  one.  But  now  we  know 
well  enough  that  is  not  true.  Gradually  training  a timid  child 
to  do  bold  acts  would  be  most  desirable ; but  frightening  him 
and  ill-treating  him  will  not  make  him  courageous.  Every  med- 
dical  man  knows  the  fatal  effects  of  terror,  or  agitation,  or  ex- 
citement, to  nerves  that  are  over-sensitive.  There  are  different 
kinds  of  courage,  as  you  have  shown  in  your  character  of 
Arthur. 

“ A boy  may  have  moral  courage,  and  a finely-organized  brain 
and  nervous  system.  Such  a boy  is  calculated,  if  judiciously 
educated,  to  be  a great,  wise,  and  useful  man  ; but  he  may  not 
possess  animal  courage ; and  one  night’s  tossing  or  bullying 
may  produce  such  an  injury  to  his  bmin  and  nerves  that  his 


8 


PREFACE. 


usefulness  is  spoiled  for  life.  I verily  believe  that  hundreds  of 
noble  organizations  are  thus  destroyed  every  year.  Horse- 
jockeys  have  learned  to  be  wiser ; they  know  that  a highly  ner- 
vous horse  is  utterly  destroyed  by  harshness.  A groom  who 
tried  to  cure  a shying  horse  by  roughness  and  violence  would 
be  discharged  as  a brute  and  fool.  A man  who  would  regulate 
his  watch  with  a crowbar  would  be  considered  an  ass.  But  a 
person  who  thinks  a child  of  delicate  and  nervous  organization 
can  be  made  bold  by  bullying  is  no  better. 

“He  can  be  made  bold  by  healthy  exercise  and  games  and 
sports ; but  that  is  quite  a different  thing.  And  even  these 
games  and  sports  should  bear  some  proportion  to  his  strength 
and  capacities. 

“I  very  much  doubt  whether  small  children  should  play  with 
big  ones — the  rush  of  a set  of  great  fellows  at  football,  or  the 
speed  of  a cricket-ball  sent  by  a strong  hitter,  must  be  very 
alarming  to  a mere  child,  to  a child  who  might  stand  up  boldly 
enough  among  children  of  his  own  size  and  height. 

“Look  at  half  a dozen  small  children  playing  cricket  by  them- 
selves ; how  feeble  are  their  blows,  how  slowly  they  bowl.  You 
can  measure  in  that  way  their  capacity. 

“ Tom  Brown  and  his  eleven  were  bold  enough  playing 
against  an  eleven  of  about  their  own  caliber ; but  I suspect  they 
would  have  been  in  a precious  funk  if  they  had  played  against 
eleven  giants,  whose  bowling  bore  the  same  proportion  to  theirs 
that  theirs  does  to  the  small  children’s  above. 

“ To  return  to  the  tossing . I must  say  I think  some  means 
might  be  devised  to  enable  schoolboys  to  go  to  bed  in  quietness 
and  peace— and  that  some  means  ought  to  be  devised  and  en- 
forced. No  good,  moral  or  physical,  to  those  who  bully  or  those 
who  are  bullied,  can  ensue  from  such  scenes  as  take  place  in  the 
dormitories  of  schools.  I suspect  that  British  wisdom  and  in- 
genuity are  sufficient  to  discover  a remedy  for  this  evil,  if  di- 
rected in  the  right  direction. 

“ The  fact  is,  that  the  condition  of  a small  boy  at  a large 
school  is  one  of  peculiar  hardship  and  suffering.  He  is  entirely 
at  the  mercy  of  proverbially  the  roughest  things  in  the  universe 
— great  schoolboys ; and  he  is  deprived  of  the  protection  which 
the  weak  have  in  civilized  society ; for  he  may  not  complain ; if 
he  does  he  is  an  outlaw— he  has  no  protector  but  public  opinion, 
and  that  a public  opinion  of  the  very  lowest  grade,  the  opinion 
of  rude  and  ignorant  boys. 

“ What  do  schoolboys  know  of  those  deep  questions  of  moral 
and  physical  philosophy,  of  the  anatomy  of  mind  and  body,  by 
which  the  treatment  of  a child  should  be  regulated? 

“Why  should  the  laws  of  civilization  be  suspended  for 


P BE  FACE. 


9 


schools?  Why  should  boys  be  left  to  herd  together  with  no  law 
but  that  of  force  or  cunning?  What  would  become  of  society  if 
it  were  constituted  on  the  same  principles?  It  would  be 
plunged  into  anarchy  in  a week. 

“One  of  our  judges  not  long  ago  refused  to  extend  the  pro- 
tection of  the  law  to  a child  who  had  been  ill-treated  at  school. 
If  a party  of  navvies  had  given  him  a licking,  and  he  had 
brought  the  case  before  a magistrate,  what  would  he  have 
thought  if  the  magistrate  had  refused  to  protect  him,  on  the 
ground  that  if  such  cases  were  brought  before  him  he  might 
have  fifty  a-day  from  one  town  only  ? 

“Now  I agree  with  you  that  a constant  supervision  of  the 
master  is  not  desirable  or  possible — and  that  telling  tales,  or 
constantly  referring  to  the  master  for  protection,  would  only 
produce  ill-will  and  worse  treatment. 

“If  I rightly  understand  your  book,  it  is  an  effort  to  improve 
the  condition  of  schools  by  improving  the  tone  of  morality  and 
public  opinion  in  them.  But  your  book  contains  the  most  in- 
dubitable proofs  that  the  condition  of  the  younger  boys  at  pub- 
lic schools,  except  under  the  rare  dictatorship  of  an  Old  Brooke, 
is  one  of  great  hardship  and  suffering. 

“ A timid  and  nervous  boy  is  from  morning  till  night  in  a 
state  of  bodily  fear.  He  is  constantly  tormented  when  trying 
to  learn  his  lessons.  His  play-houi  s are  occupied  m fagging,  in 
a horrid  funk  of  cricket-balls  and  foot-balls,  and  the  violent 
sport  of  creatures  who,  to  him,  are  giants.  He  goes  to  his  bed 
in  fear  and  trembling — worse  than  the  reality  of  the  rough 
treatment  to  which  he  is  perhaps  subjected. 

“ I believe  there  is  only  one  complete  remedy.  It  is  not  in 
magisterial  supervision ; nor  in  telling  tales  ; nor  in  raising  the 
tone  of  public  opinion  among  schoolboys — but  in  the  separation 
of  boys  of  different  ages  into  different  schools . 

“ There  should  be  at  least  three  different  classes  of  schools — 
the  first  for  boys  from  nine  to  twelve ; the  second  for  boys  from 
twelve  to  fifteen  ; the  third  for  those  above  fifteen.  And  these 
schools  should  be  in  different  localities. 

“ There  ought  to  be  a certain  amount  of  supervision  by  the 
master  at  those  times  when  there  are  special  occasions  for 
bullying,  e.g . in  the  long  winter  evenings,  and  when  the  boys 
are  congregated  together  in  the  bedrooms.  Surely  it  cannot  be 
an  impossibility  to  keep  order,  and  protect  the  weak  at  such 
times.  Whatever  evils  might  arise  from  supervision,  they  could 
hardly  be  greater  than  those  produced  by  a system  which  di- 
vides boys  into  despots  and  slaves. 

“ Ever  yours,  very  truly, 

“F.  D” 


10 


P BE  FACE. 


The  question  of  how  to  adapt  English  public  school  edu- 
cation to  nervous  and  sensitive  boys  (often  the  highest  and 
noblest  subjects  which  that  education  has  to  deal  with) 
ought  to  be  looked  at  from  every  point  of  view.*  I there- 
fore add  a few  extracts  from  the  letter  of  an  old  friend  and 
schoolfellow,  than  whom  no  man  in  England  is  better  able 
to  speak  on  the  subject : — 

“ What’s  the  use  of  sorting  the  boys  by  ages,  unless  you  do  so 
by  strength ; and  who  are  often  the  real  bullies  ? The  strong 
young  dog  of  fourteen,  while  the  victim  may  be  one  year  or  two 

years  older I deny  the  fact  about  the  bedrooms  : there 

is  trouble  at  times,  and  always  will  be;  but  so  there  is  nurseries; 
— my  little  girl,  who  looks  like  an  angel,  was  bullying  the 
smallest  twice  to-day. 

“ Bullying  must  be  fought  with  in  other  ways, — by  getting 
not  only  the  Sixth  to  put  it  down,  but  the  lower  fellows  to  scorn 
it,  and  by  eradicating  mercilessly  the  incorrigible  ; and  a master 
who  really  cares  for  his  fellows  is  pretty  sure  to  know  instinct- 
ively who  in  his  house  are  likely  to  be  bullied,  and,  knowing  a 
fellow  to  be  really  victimized  and  harassed,  I am  sure  that  he 
can  stop  it  if  he  is  resolved.  There  are  many  kinds  of  annoy- 
ance— sometimes  of  real  cutting  persecution  for  righteousness’ 
sake — that  he  can’t  stop : no  more  could  all  the  ushers  in  the 
world  ; but  he  can  do  very  much  in  many  ways  to  make  the 
shafts  of  the  wicked  pointless. 

“But  though,  for  quite  other  reasons,  I don’t  like  to  see  very 
young  boys  launched  at  a public  school,  and  though  I don’t 
deny  (I  wish  I could)  the  existence  from  time  to  time  of 
bullying,  I deny  its  being  a constant  condition  of  school  life, 
and  still  more  the  possibility  of  meeting  it  by  the  means  pro- 
posed  

“ I don’t  wish  to  understate  the  amount  of  bullying  that  goes 
on,  but  my  conviction  is  that  it  must  be  fought,  like  all  school 
evils,  but  it,  more  than  any,  by  dynamics  rather  than  mechanics , 
by  getting  the  fellows  to  respect  themselves  and  one  another, 
rather  than  by  sitting  by  them  with  a thick  stick.” 

* For  those  who  believe  with  me  in  public  school  education,  the  fact 
stated  in  the  following  extract  from  a note  of  Mr.  G.  De  Bunsen,  will  be 
hailed  with  pleasure  especially  now  that  our  alliance  with  Prussia  (the 
most  natural  and  healthy  European  alliance  for  Protestant  England)  is 
likely  to  be  so  much  stronger  and  deeper  than  heretofore.  Speaking  of 
this  book,  he  says,  “ The  author  is  mistaken  in  saying  that  public 
schools,  in  the  English  sense,  are  peculiar  to  England.  Schul  Pforte  (in 
the  Prussian  province  of  Saxony)  is  similar  in  antiquity  and  institutions. 
I like  his  book  all  the  more  for  having  been  there  for  five  years.” 


PREFACE . 


11 


And  now,  having  broken  my  resolution  never  to  write  a 
Preface,  there  are  just  two  or  three  things  which  I should 
like  to  say  a word  about. 

Several  persons,  for  whose  judgment  I have  the  highest 
respect,  while  saying  very  kind  things  about  this  book, 
have  added,  that  the  great  fault  of  it  is,  “ too  much  preach- 
ing ” ; but  they  hope  I shall  amend  in  this  matter  should 
I ever  write  again.  Now  this  I most  distinctly  decline  to 
do.  Why,  my  whole  object  in  writing  at  all  was  to  get  the 
chance  of  preaching  ! When  a man  comes  to  my  time  of 
life  and  has  his  bread  to  make,  and  very  little  time  to  spare, 
is  it  likely  that  he  will  spend  almost  the  whole  of  his  yearly 
vacation  in  writing  a story  just  to  amuse  people  ? I think 
not.  At  any  rate,  I wouldn’t  do  so  myself. 

The  fact  is,  that  I can  scarcely  ever  call  on  one  of  my 
contemporaries  now-a-days  without  running  across  a boy 
already  at  school,  or  just  ready  to  go  there,  whose  bright 
looks  and  supple  limbs  remind  me  of  his  father,  and  our 
first  meeting  in  old  times.  lean  scarcely  keep  the  Latin 
Grammar  out  of  my  own  house  any  longer  ; and  the  sight 
of  sons,  nephews,  and  godsons,  playing  trap-bat-and-ball, 
and  reading  “ Robinson  Crusoe,”  makes  one  ask  oneself 
whether  there  isn’t  something  one  would  like  to  say  to 
them  before  they  take  their  first  plunge  into  the  stream  of 
life,  away  from  their  own  homes,  or  while  they  are  yet 
shivering  after  the  first  plunge.  My  sole  object  in  writing 
was  to  preach  to  boys;  if  ever  I write  again,  it  will  be  to 
preach  to  some  other  age.  I can’t  see  that  a man  has  any 
business  to  write  at  all  unless  he  has  something  which  he 
thoroughly  believes  and  wants  to  preach  about.  If  he  has 
this,  and  the  chance  of  delivering  himself  of  it,  let  him  by 
all  means  put  it  in  the  shape  in  which  it  will  be  most  likely 
to  get  a hearing  ; but  let  him  never  be  so  carried  away  as 
to  forget  that  preaching  is  his  object. 

A black  soldier,  in  a West  Indian  regiment,  tied  up  to 
receive  a couple  of  dozen  for  drunkenness,  cried  out  to  his 
captain,  who  was  exhorting  him  to  sobriety  in  future. 
“ Cap’n,  if  you  preachee,  preachee  ; and  if  floggee,  floggee  ; 
but  no  preachee  and  floggee  too!  ” to  which  his  captain  might 
have  replied,  “No,  Pompey,  I must  preach  whenever  I see 
a chance  of  being  listened  to,  which  I never  did  before  ; so 
now  you  must  have  it  all  together ; and  I hope  you  may 
remember  some  of  it.” 


12 


PREFACE. 


There  is  one  point  which  has  been  made  by  several  of  the 
reviewers  who  have  noticed  this  book,  and  it  is  one  which, 
as  I am  writing  a preface,  I can n-  t pass  over.  They  have 
stated  that  the  Rugby  undergraduates  they  remember  at 
the  universities  were  “a  solemn  array,”  u boys  turned  into 
men  before  their  time,”  “ a semi-political,  semi-sacerdotal 
fraternity,”  etc.,  giving  the  idea  that  Arnold  turned  out  a 
set  of  young  squares-toes,  who  wore  long-fingered  black 
gloves  and  talked  with  a snuffle.  I can  only  say  that  their 
acquaintance  must  have  been  limited  and  exceptional.  For 
I am  sure  that  every  one  who  has  had  anything  like  large 
or  continuous  knowledge  of  boys  brought  up  at  Rugby  from 
the  times  of  which  this  book  treats  down  to  this  day,  will 
bear  me  out  in  saying,  that  the  mark  by  which  you  may 
know  them,  is,  their  genial  and  heaiiy  freshness  and  youth- 
fulness of  character.  They  lose  nothing  of  the  boy  that  is 
worth  keeping,  but  build  up  the  man  upon  it.  This  is 
their  differentia  as  Rugby  hoys  ; and  if  they  never  had  it, 
or  have  lost  it,  it  must  be,  not  because  they  were  at  Rugby, 
but  in  spite  of  their  having  been  there  ; the  stronger  it  is  in 
them  the  more  deeply  you  may  be  sure  have  they  drunk  of 
the  spirit  of  their  school. 

But  this  boyishness  in  the  highest  sense  is  not  incompat- 
tible  with  seriousness — or  earnestness,  if  you  like  the  word 
better.*  Quite  the  contrary.  And  I can  well  believe  that 
casual  observers,  who  have  never  been  intimate  with  Rugby 
bo}rs  of  the  true  stamp,  but  have  met  them  only  in  the 
every-day  society  of  the  universities,  at  wines,  breakfast- 
parties,  and  the  like,  may  have  seen  a good  deal  more  of 
the  serious  or  earnest  side  of  their  characters  than  of  any 
other.  For  the  more  the  boy  was  alive  in  them  the  less 
will  they  have  been  able  to  conceal  their  thoughts  or  their 
opinion  of  what  was  taking  place  under  their  noses  ; and  if 
the  greater  part  of  that  didn’t  square  with  their  notions  of 
what  was  right,  very  likely  they  showed  pretty  clearly  that 
it  did  not,  at  whatever  risk  of  being  taken  for  young  prigs. 
They  may  be  open  to  the  charge  of  having  old  heads  on 
young  shoulders ; I think,  they  are,  and  always  were,  as 
long  as  T can  remember;  but  so  long  as  they  have  young 

* “To  him  (Arnold)  and  his  admirers  we  owe  the  substitution  of  the 
word  ‘ earnest’  for  its  predecessor  ‘serious.’” — Edinburgh  Review , No. 
217,  p.  183. 


PREFACE . 


13 


hearts  to  keep  head  and  shoulders  in  order,  I,  for  one,  must 
think  this  only  a gain. 

And  what  gave  Rugby  boys  this  character,  and  has 
enabled  the  school,  I believe,  to  keep  it  to  this  day?  I say 
fearlessly — Arnold’s  teaching  and  example — above  all,  that 
part  of  it  which  has  been,  I will  not  say  sneered  at,  but 
certainly  not  approved — his  unwearied  zeal  in  creating 
-moral  thoughtfulness”  in  every  boy  with  whom  he  came 
into  personal  contact. 

He  certainly  did  teach  us — thank  God  for  it ! — that  we 
could  not  cut  our  life  into  slices  and  say,  “ In  this  slice 
your  actions  are  indifferent,  and  you  needn’t  trouble  your 
heads  about  them  one  way  or  another  ; but  in  this  slice 
mind  what  you  are  about,  for  they  are  important  ” — a pretty 
muddle  we  should  have  been  in  had  he  done  so.  He  taught 
us  that  in  this  wonderful  world,  no  boy  or  man  can  tell 
which  of  his  actions  is  indifferent  and  which  not;  that  by  a 
thoughtless  word  or  look  we  may  lead  astray  a brother  for 
whom  Christ  died.  He  taught  us  that  life  is  a whole,  made 
up  of  actions  and  thoughts  and  longings,  great  and  small, 
noble  and  ignoble  ; therefore  the  only  true  wisdom  for  boy 
or  man  is  to  bring  the  whole  life  into  obedience  to  Him 
whose  world  we  live  in,  and  who  has  purchased  us  with  His 
blood;  and  that  whether  we  eat  or  drink,  or  whatsoever  we 
do,  we  are  to  do  all  in  His  name  and  to  His  glory  ; in  such 
teaching,  faithfully,  as  it  seems  to  me,  following  that  of 
Paul  of  Tarsus,  who  was  in  the  habit  of  meaning  what  he 
s«,id,  and  who  laid  down  this  standard  for  every  man  and 
boy  in  his  time.,  I think  it  lies  with  those  who  say  that 
such  teaching  will  not  do  for  us  now,  to  show  why  a teacher 
in  the  nineteenth  century  is  to  preach  a lower  standard 
than  one  in  the  first. 

However,  I won’t  say  that  the  reviewers  have  not  a cer- 
tain plausible  ground  for  their  dicta.  For  a short  time  after 
a boy  has  taken  up  such  a life  as  Arnold  would  have  urged 
upon  him,  he  has  a hard  time  of  it.  He  finds  his  judgment 
often  at  fault,  his  body  and  intellect  running  away  with 
him  into  all  sorts  of  pitfalls,  and  himself  coming  down  with 
a crash.  The  more  seriously  he  buckles  to  his  work  the 
oftener  these  mischances  seem  to  happen  ; and  in  the  dust 
of  his  tumbles  and  struggles,  unless  he  is  a very  extraordi- 
nary boy,  he  may  often  be  too  severe  on  his  comrades,  may 


14 


PREFACE . 


think  he  sees  evil  in  things  innocent,  may  give  offense  when 
he  never  meant  it.  At  this  stage  of  his  career,  I take  it, 
our  reviewer  comes  across  him,  and,  not  looking  below  the 
surface  (as  a reviewer  ought  to  do),  at  once  sets  the  poor 
boy  down  for  a prig  and  a Pharisee,  when  in  all  likelihood  he 
is  one  of  the  humblest  and  truest  and  most  childlike  of  the 
reviewer’s  acquaintance. 

But  let  our  reviewer  come  across  him  again  in  a year 
or  two,  when  the  44  thoughtful  life  ” has  become  habitual  to 
him,  and  fits  him  as  easily  as  his  skin  ; and,  if  he  be  honest, 
I think  he  will  see  cause  to  reconsider  his  judgment.  For  he 
will  find  the  boy,  grown  into  a man,  enjoying  every  day 
life  as  no  man  can  who  has  not  found  out  whence  comes  the 
capacity  for  enjoyment,  and  who  is  the  Giver  of  the  least 
of  the  good  things  of  this  world — humble,  as  no  man  can  be 
who  has  not  proved  his  own  powerlessness  to  do  right  in 
the  smallest  act  which  he  ever  had  to  do — tolerant,  as  no 
man  can  be  who  does  not  live  daily  and  hourly  in  the 
knowledge  of  how  Perfect  Love  is  forever  about  his  path, 
and  bearing  with  and  upholding  him. 


TOM  BROWN’S  SCHOOL-DAYS, 

BY  AN  OLD  BOY. 


CHAPTER  I 

“Pm  the  Poet  of  White  Horse  Yale,  sir, 

With  liberal  notions  under  my  cap.”  Ballad . 

The  Browns  have  become  illustrious  by  the  pen  of  Thack- 
eray and  the  pencil  of  Doyle  within  the  memory  of  the 
young  gentlemen  who  are  now  matriculating  at  the  Uni- 
versities. Notwithstanding  the  well-merited  but  late  fame 
which  has  now  fallen  upon  them,  any  one  at  all  acquainted 
with  the  family  must  feel  that  much  has  yet  to  be  written 
and  said  before  the  British  nation  will  be  properly  sensible 
of  how  much  of  its  greatness  it  owes  to  the  Browns.  For 
centuries,  in  their  quiet,  dogged,  homespun  way,  they  have 
been  subduing  the  earth  in  most  English  counties,  and 
leaving  their  mark  in  American  forests  and  Australian 
uplands.  Wherever  the  fleets  and  armies  of  England  have 
won  renown,  there  the  stalwart  sons  of  the  Browns  have 
done  yeomen’s  work.  With  the  yew  bow  and  cloth-yard 
shaft  at  Cressy  and  Agincourt — with  the  brown  bill  and 
pike  under  the  brave  Lord  Willoughby — with  culverin  and 
demi-culverin  against  Spaniards  and  Dutchmen — with  hand- 
grenade  and  saber,  and  musket  and  bayonet,  under  Rodney 
and  St.  Vincent,  Wolfe  and  Moore,  Nelson  and  Welling- 
ton, they  have  carried  their  lives  in  their  hands  ; getting  hard 
knocks  and  hard  work  in  plenty,  which  was  on  the  whole 
what  they  looked  for,  and  the  best  thing  for  them ; and 
little  praise  or  pudding,  which  indeed  they  and  most  of  us  are 
better  without.  Talbots  and  Stanleys,  St.  Maurs,  and  such/ 


16 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-BAYS. 


like  folk,  have  led  armies,  and  made  laws  time  out  of  mind ; 
but  those  noble  families  would  be  somewhat  astounded — if 
the  accounts  ever  came  to  be  fairly  taken — to  find  how 
small  their  work  for  England  has  been  hy  the  side  of  that 
of  the  Browns. 

These  latter,  indeed,  have,  until  the  present  generation, 
rarely  been  sung  by  poet  or  chronicled  by  sage.  They 
have  wanted  their  “ sacer  vates,”  having  been  too  solid  to 
rise  to  the  top  by  themselves,  and  not  having  been  largely 
gifted  with  the  talent  of  catching  hold  of,  and  holding  on 
tight  to,  whatever  good  things  happened  to  be  going — the 
foundation  of  the  fortunes  of  so  many  noble  families.  But 
the  world  goes  on  its  way,  and  the  wheel  turns,  and  the 
wrongs  of  the  Browns,  like  other  wrongs,  seem  in  a fair 
way  to  get  righted.  And  this  present  writer,  having  for 
many  years  of  his  life  been  a devout  Brown-worshiper, 
and  moreover  having  the  honor  of  being  nearly  connected 
with  an  eminently  respectable  branch  of  the  great  Brown 
family,  is  anxious,  so  far  as  in  him  lies,  to  help  the  wheel 
over,  and  throw  his  stone  on  to  the  pile. 

However,  gentle  reader,  or  simple  reader,  whichever  you 
may  be,  lest  you  should  be  led  to  waste  your  precious  time 
upon  these  pages,  I make  so  bold  as  at  once  to  tell  you  the 
sort  of  folk  you’ll  have  to  meet  and  put  up  with,  if  you  and 
I are  to  jog  on  comfortably  together.  You  shall  hear  at 
once  what  sort  of  folk  the  Browns  are,  at  least  my  branch 
of  them  ; andt  hen  if  you  don’t  like  the  sort,  why,  cut  the 
concern  at  once,  and  let  you  and  I cry  quits  before  either 
one  of  us  can  grumble  at  the  other. 

In  the  first  place,  the  Browns  are  a fighting  family.  One 
may  question  their  wisdom,  or  wit,  or  beauty,  but  about 
their  fight  there  can  be  no  question.  Wherever  hard  knocks 
of  any  kind,  visible  or  invisible,  are  going,  then  the  Brown 
who  is  nearest  must  shove  in  his  carcase.  And  these  carcases 
for  the  most  part  answer  very  well  to  the  characteristic  pro- 
pensity; they  are  a square-headed  and  snake-necked  genera- 
tion, broad  in  the  shoulder,  deep  in  the  chest,  and  thin  in  flank, 
carrying  no  lumber.  Then  for  clanship,  they  are  as  bad  as 
Highlanders  : it  is  amazing  the  belief  they  have  in  one  an- 
other. With  them  there  is  nothing  like  the  Browns,  to  the 
third  and  fourth  generation.  “ Blood  is  thicker  than  water,” 
is  one  of  their  pet  sayings.  They  can ’t  be  happy  unless 


TOM  BROWN  yS  SCHOOL-DA  YS.  1 7 

they  are  always  meeting  one  another.  Never  were  such 
people  for  family  gatherings,  which,  were  you  a stranger, 
or  sensitive,  you  might  think  had  better  not  have  been 
gathered  together.  For  daring  the  whole  time  of  their  be- 
ing together,  they  luxuriate  in  telling  one  another  their 
minds  on  whatever  subject  turns  up  ; and  their  minds  are 
wonderfully  antagonistic,  and  all  their  opinions  are  down- 
right beliefs.  Till  you’ve  been  among  them  some  time  and 
understand  them,  you  can’t  think  but  that  they  are  quarrel- 
ing. Not  a bit  of  it;  they  love  and  respect  one  another  ten 
times  the  more  after  a good  set  family  arguing  bout,  and 
go  back,  one  to  his  curacy,  another  to  his  chambers,  and 
another  to  his  regiment,  freshened  for  work  and  more  than 
ever  convinced  that  the  Browns  are  the  height  of  company. 

This  family  training,  too,  combined  with  their  turn  for 
combativeness,  make  them  eminently  Quixotic.  They  can’t 
let  anything  alone  which  they  think  going  wrong.  They 
must  speak  their  mind  about  it,  annoying  all  easy-going 
folk ; and  spend  their  time  and  money  in  having  a tinker 
at  it,  however  hopeless  the  job.  It  is  an  impossibility  to  a 
Brown  to  leave  the  most  disreputable  lame  dog  on  the 
other  side  of  a stile.  Most  other  folk  get  tired  of  such 
work.  The  old  Browns,  with  red  faces,  white  whiskers, 
and  bald  heads,  go  on  believing  and  fighting  to  a green  old 
age.  They  have  always  a crotchet  going,  till  the  old  man 
with  the  scythe  reaps  and  gamers  them  away  for  trouble- 
some old  boys  as  they  are. 

And  the  most  provoking  thing  is,  that  no  failures  knock 
them  up  or  make  them  hold  their  hands,  or  think  you,  or 
me,  or  other  sane  people,  in  the  right.  Failures  slide  off 
them  like  July  rain  off  a duck’s  back  feathers.  Jem  and 
his  whole  family  turn  out  bad,  and  cheat  them  one  week, 
and  the  next  they  are  doing  the  same  thing  for  Jack; 
and  when  he  goes  to  the  treadmill,  and  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren to  the  workhouse,  they  will  be  on  the  look-out  for  Bill 
to  take  his  place. 

However,  it  is  time  for  us  to  get  from  the  general  to  the 
particular  ; so,  leaving  the  great  army  of  Browns,  who  are 
scattered  over  the  whole  empire  on  which  the  sun  never 
sets,  and  whose  general  diffusion  I take  to  be  the  chief 
cause  of  that  empire’s  stability,  let  us  at  once  fix  our  atten- 
tion upon  the  small  nest  of  Browns  in  which  our  hero  was 


18 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


hatched,  and  which  dwelt  in  that  portion  of  the  royal 
county  of  Berks  which  is  called  the  Yale  of  White 
Horse. 

Most  of  you  have  probably  traveled  down  the  Great 
Western  Railway  as  far  as  Swindon.  Those  of  you  who 
did  so  with  your  eyes  open,  have  been  aware,  soon  after 
leaving  the  Didcot  station,  of  a fine  range  of  chalk  hills 
running  parallel  with  the  railway  on  the  left-hand  side  as 
you  go  down,  and  distant  some  two  or  three  miles  more  or 
less,  from  the  line.  The  highest  point  in  the  range  is  the 
White  Horse  hill,  which  you  come  in  front  of  just  before 
you  stop  at  the  Shrivenham  station.  If  you  love  English 
scenery,  and  have  a few  hours  to  spare,  you  can’t  do  better, 
the  next  time  you  pass,  than  stop  at  the  Farringdon-road 
or  Shrivenham  station,  and  make  your  way  to  that  highest 
point.  And  those  who  care  for  the  vague  old  stories  that 
haunt  country  sides  all  about  England,  will  not,  if  they  are 
wise,  be  content  with  only  a few  hours’  stay  ; for,  glorious 
as  the  view  is,  the  neighborhood  is  yet  more  interesting  for 
its  relics  of  bygone  times.  I only  know  two  English  neigh- 
borhoods thoroughly,  and  in  each,  within  a circle  of  five 
miles,  there  is  enough  of  interest  and  beauty  to  last  any 
reasonable  man  his  life.  I believe  this  to  be  the  case  al- 
most throughout  the  country,  but  each  has  a special  at- 
traction, and  none  can  be  richer  than  the  one  I am  speaking 
of  and  going  to  introduce  you  to  very  particularly  ; for  on 
this  subject  must  I be  prosy ; so  those  that  don’t  care  for 
England  in  detail  may  skip  the  chapter. 

Oh  young  England ! young  England  ! You  who  are  born 
into  these  racing  railroad  times,  when  there’s  a Great  Ex- 
hibition, or  some  monster  sight,  everj^  year;  and  you  can 
get  over  a couple  of  thousand  miles  of  ground  for  three 
pound  ten,  in  a five  weeks’  holiday  ; why  don’t  you  know 
more  of  your  own  birthplaces?  You’re  all  in  the  ends  of 
the  earth,  it  seems  to  me,  as  soon  as  you  get  your  necks 
out  of  the  educational  collar,  for  midsummer  holidays,  long 
vacations,  or  what  not.  Going  round  Ireland  with  a re- 
turn ticket,  in  a fortnight ; dropping  your  copies  of  Tenny- 
son on  the  tops  of  Swiss  mountains ; or  pulling  down  the 
Danube  in  Oxford  racing-boats.  And  when  you  get  home 
for  a quiet  fortnight,  you  turn  the  steam  off,  and  lie  on  your 
backs  in  the  paternal  garden,  surrounded  by  the  last  batch 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


19 


of  books  from  Mudie’s  library,  and  half  bored  to  death. 
Well,  well ! I know  it  has  its  good  side.  You  all  patter  French 
more  or  less,  and  perhaps  German  : you  have  seen  men  and 
cities,  no  doubt,  and  have  your  opinions,  such  as  they  are, 
about  schools  of  painting,  high  art,  and  all  that ; have  seen 
the  pictures  at  Dresden  and  the  Louvre,  and  know  the  taste 
of  sour-krout.  All  I say  is,  you  don’t  know  your  own  lanes 
and  woods  and  fields.  Though  you  may  be  chock-full  of 
science,  not  one  in  twenty  of  you  knows  where  to  find  the 
wood-sorrel  or  bee-orchis,  which  grows  in  the  next  wood  or 
on  the  down  three  miles  off,  or  what  the  bog-bean  and  wood- 
sage  are  good  for.  And  as  for  the  country  legends,  the 
stories  of  the  old  gable-ended  farmhouses,  the  place  where 
the  last  skirmish  was  fought  in  the  civil  wars,  where  the 
parish  butts  stood,  where  the  last  highwayman  turned  to 
bay,  where  the  last  ghost  was  laid  by  the  parson,  they’re 
gone  out  of  date  altogether. 

Now,  in  my  time,  when  we  got  home  by  the  old  coach 
which  put  us  down  at  the  crossroads  with  our  boxes,  the 
first  day  of  the  holidays,  and  had  been  driven  off  by  the 
family  coachman,  singing  “ Dulce  Domum”  at  the  top  of 
our  voices,  there  we  were,  fixtures,  till  black  Monday  came 
round.  We  had  to  cut  out  our  own  amusements  within  a walk 
or  ride  of  home.  And  so  we  got  to  know  all  the  country 
folk  and  their  ways  and  songs  and  stories  by  heart ; we 
went  over  the  fields,  and  woods,  and  hills,  again  and  again, 
till  we  made  friends  with  them  all.  We  were  Berkshire, 
or  Gloucestershire,  or  Yorkshire  boys,  and  you’re  young 
cosmopolites,  belonging  to  all  counties  and  no  countries. 
No  doubt  it’s  all  right — I dare  say  it  is.  This  is  the  day 
of  large  views  and  glorious  humanity,  and  all  that;  but  I 
wish  back-swordplay  hadn’t  gone  out  in  the  Yale  of  White 
Horse,  and  that  that  confounded  Great  Western  hadn’t  car- 
ried away  Alfred’s  Hill  to  make  an  embankment. 

But  to  return  to  the  said  Vale  of  White  Horse,  the 
country  in  which  the  first  scenes  of  this  true  and  interest- 
ing story  are  laid.  As  I said,  the  Great  Western  now  runs 
right  through  it,  and  it  is  a land  of  large,  rich  pastures, 
bounded  by  fox-fences,  and  covered  with  fine  hedgerow 
timber,  with  here  and  there  a nice  little  gorse  or  spinney, 
where  abideth  poor  Charley,  having  no  other  cover  to  which 
to  betake  himself  for  miles  and  miles,  when  pushed  out 


20 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


some  fine  November  morning  by  the  Old  Berkshire.  Those 
who  have  been  there,  and  well  mounted,  only  know 
how  he  and  the  stanch  little  pack  who  dashed  after  him — 
heads  high  and  sterns  low,  with  a breast-high  scent — can 
consume  the  ground  at  such  times.  There  being  little 
plough-land  and  few  woods,  the  Vale  is  only  an  average 
sporting  country,  except  for  hunting.  The  villages  are 
straggling,  queer,  old-fashioned  places,  the  houses  being 
cropped  down  without  the  least  regularity,  in  nooks  and 
out-of-the-way  corners,  by  the  sides  of  shadowy  lanes  and 
footpaths,  each  with  its  patch  of  garden.  They  are  built 
chiefly  of  good  gray  stone  and  thatched ; though  I see  that 
within  the  last  year  or  two  the  red-brick  cottages  are  mul- 
tiplying, for  the  Vale  is  beginning  to  manufacture  largely 
both  brick  and  tiles.  There  are  lots  of  waste  ground  by 
the  side  of  the  roads  in  every  village,  amounting  often  to 
village  greens,  where  feed  the  pigs  and  ganders  of  the 
people ; and  these  roads  are  old-fashioned,  homely  roads, 
very  .dirty  and  badly  made  and  hardly  endurable  in  winter, 
but  still  pleasant,  jog-trot  roads  running  through  the  great 
pasture  lands,  dotted  here  and  there  with  little  clumps  of 
thorns,  where  the  sleek  kine  are  feeding,  with  no  fence  on 
either  side  of  them,  and  a gate  at  the  end  of  each  field, 
which  makes  you  get  out  of  your  gig  (if  you  keep  one), 
and  gives  you  a chance  of  looking  about  you  every  quar- 
ter of  a mile. 

One  of  the  moralists  whom  we  sat  under  in  my 
youth — was  it  the  great  Richard  Swiveller,  or  Mr.  Stig- 
gins? — says,  “ We  are  born  in  a vale,  and  must  take  the 
consequences  of  being  found  in  such  a situation.”  These 
consequences  I for  one  am  ready  to  encounter.  I pity 
people  who  weren’t  born  in  a vale.  I don't  mean  a flat 
country,  but  a vale  ; that  is,  a flat  country  bounded  by  hills. 
The  having  your  hill  always  in  view,  if  you  choose  to  turn 
towards  him,  that’s  the  essence  of  a vale.  There  he  is  for- 
ever in  the  distance,  your  friend  and  companion  ; you  never 
lose  him  as  you  do  in  hilly  districts. 

And  then  what  a hill  is  the  White  Horse  hill ! There 
it  stands  right  up  above  all  the  rest,  nine  hundred  feet 
above  the  sea,  and  the  boldest,  and  bravest  shape  for  a chalk 
hill  that  you  ever  saw.  Let  us  go  up  to  the  top  of  him, 
and  see  what  is  to  be  found  there.  Ay,  you  may  well 


TOM  BROWN’S  SCHOOL-BAYS. 


21 


wonder,  and  think  it  odd,  you  never  heard  of  this  before ; 
but,  wonder  or  not,  as  you  please,  there  are  hundreds  of 
such  things  lying  about  England,  which  wiser  folk  than 
you  know  nothing  of,  and  care  nothing  for.  Yes,  it’s 
a magnificent  Roman  camp,  and  no  mistake,  with  gates, 
and  ditch,  and  mounds,  all  as  complete  as  it  was  twenty 
years  after  the  strong  old  rogues  left  it.  Here,  right  upon 
the  highest  point,  from  which  they  say  you  can  see  eleven 
counties,  they  trenched  round  all  the  table-land,  some 
twelve  or  fourteen  acres,  as  was  their  custom,  for  they 
couldn’t  bear  anybody  to  overlook  them,  and  made  their 
ejuie.  The  ground  falls  away  rapidly  on  all  sides.  Was 
there  ever  such  turf  in  the  whole  world  ? You  sink  up  to 
your  ankles  at  every  step,  and  yet  the  spring  of  it  is 
delicious.  There  is  always  a breeze  in  the  “ camp,”  as  it 
is  called,  and  here  it  lies,  just  as  the  Romans  left  it,  except 
that  cairn  on  the  east  side,  left  by  her  Majesty’s  corps  of 
Sappers  and  Miners  the  other  day,  when  they  and  the 
Engineer  officer  had  finished  their  sojourn  there,  and  their 
surveys  for  the  Ordnance  map  of  Berkshire.  It  is  alto- 
gether a place  that  you  won’t  forget — a place  to  open  a 
man’s  soul  and  make  him  prophes}^,  as  he  looks  down  on 
that  great  vale  spread  out  as  the  garden  of  the  Lord  before 
him,  and  wave  on  wave  of  the  mysterious  downs  behind; 
and  to  the  right  and  left  the  chalk  hills  running  away  into 
the  distance,  along  which  he  can  trace  for  miles  the  old 
Roman  road,  “ the  Ridgeway  ” (“  the  Rudge,”  as  the 
country  folk  call  it),  keeping  straight  along  the  highest 
back  of  the  hills  ; — such  a place  as  Balak  brought  Balaam 
to,  and  told  him  to  prophesy  against  the  people  in  the 
valley  beneath.  And  he  could  not,  neither  shall  you,  for 
they  are  a people  of  the  Lord  who  abide  there. 

And  now  we  leave  the  camp,  and  descend  toward  the 
west,  and  are  on  the  Ashdown.  We  are  treading  on 
heroes.  It  is  sacred  ground  for  Englishmen,  more  sacred 
than  all  but  one  or  two  fields  where  their  bones  lie  whiten- 
ing. For  this  is  the  actual  place  where  our  Alfred  won 
his  great  battle,  the  battle  of  Ashdown  (“  JEscendum  ” 
in  the  chroniclers),  which  broke  the  Danish  power,  and 
made  England  a Christian  land.  The  Danes  held  the  camp 
and  the  slope  where  we  are  standing — the  whole  crown  of 
the  hill  in  fact.  “ The  heathen  had  beforehand  seized  the 


22 


TOM  BBOWH'S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


higher  ground,”  as  old  Asser  says,  having  wasted  every- 
thing behind  them  from  London,  and  being  just  ready  to 
burst  down  on  the  fair  vale,  Alfred’s  own  birthplace  and 
heritage.  And  up  the  heights  came  the  Saxons,  as  they 
did  at  the  Alma.  “ The  Christians  led  up  their  line  from 
the  lower  groundo  There  stood  also  on  that  same  spot  a 
single  thorn-tree,  marvelous  stumpy  (which  we  ourselves 
with  our  very  own  eyes  have  seen).”  Bless  the  old  chronicler! 
does  he  think  nobody  ever  saw  a “ single  thorn-tree”  but 
himself  ? Why,  there  it  stands  to  this  very  day,  just  on 
the  edge  of  the  slope,  and  I saw  it  not  three  weeks  since  ; 
an  old  single  thorn-tree  “ marvelous  stumpy.”  At  least 
if  it  isn’t  the  same  tree,  it  ought  to  have  been  ; for  it’s  just 
in  the  place  where  the  battle  must  have  been  won  or  lost 
— “ around  which,  as  T was  saying,  the  two  lines  of  foe- 
men  came  together  in  battle  with  a huge  shout.  And  in 
this  place,  one  of  the  two  kings  < f the  heathen  and  five  of 
his  earls  fell  down  and  died,  and  many  thousands  of  the 
heathen  side  in  the  same  place.”  * After  which  crowning 
mercy,  the  pious  king,  that  there  might  never  be  wanting 
a sign  and  a memorial  to  the  country-side,  carved  out  on  the 
northern  side  of  the  chalk  hill,  under  the  camp,  where  it 
is  almost  precipitous,  the  great  Saxon  white  horse,  which 
he  who  will  may  see  from  the  railway,  and  which  gives  its 
name  to  the  vale,  over  which  it  has  looked  these  thousand 
years  and  more. 

Right  down  below  the  White  Horse  is  a curious  deep 
and  broad  gully,  called  “ The  Manger,”  into  one  side  of 
which  the  hills  fall  with  a series  of  the  most  lovely  sweep- 
ing curves,  known  as  “ The  Giant’s  Stairs  ; ” they  are  not 
a bit  like  stairs,  but  I never  saw  anything  like  them  any- 
where else,  with  their  short  green  turf  and  tender  bluebells, 
and  gossamer  and  thistle-down  gleaming  in  the  sun,  and 
the  sheep-paths  running  along  their  sides  like  ruled  lines. 

*“Pagani  editiorem  locum  praeoccupaverant.  Christiani  ab  inferiori 
loco  aciem  dirigebant.  Erat  quoque  in  eodeni  loco  unica  spinosa  arbor, 
brevis  admodum  (quam  nos  ipsi  nostris  propriis  oculis  vidimus).  Circa 
quam  ergo  hostiles  inter  se  acies  cum  ingenti  clamore  liostiliter  conven- 
iunt.  Quo  in  loco  alter  de  duobus  Paganorum  regibus  et  quinque  com- 
ites occisi  occubuerunt,  et  multa  millia  Paganae  partis  in  eodem  loco. 
Cecidit  illic  ergo  Boegsceg  Rex,  et  Sidroe,  ille  senex  comes,  et  Sidroc 
Junior  comes,  et  Obsbern  comes,”  &c. — Annales  Berum  Gestarum 
HZlfredi  Magni , Auctore  Asserio.  Becensuit  .FranciscusfWise.  _ Oxford . 
1722,  p.  23. 


TOM  BROWN’S  SCHOOL-DAYS . 


23 


The  other  side  of  the  Manger  is  formed  by  the  Dragon’s 
hill,  a curious  little,  round,  self-confident  fellow,  thrown 
forward  from  the  range,  and  utterly  unlike  everything 
around  him.  On  this  hill  some  deliverer  of  mankind. — St. 
George,  the  country  folk  used  to  tell  me — killed  a dragon. 
Whether  it  were  St.  George,  I cannot  say  ; but  surely  a 
dragon  was  killed  there,  for  you  may  see  the  marks 
where  his  blood  ran  down,  and  more  by  token  the  place 
where  it  ran  down  is  the  easiest  way  up  the  hillside. 

Passing  along  the  Ridgeway  to  the  west  for  about  a 
mile  we  come  to  a little  clump  of  young  beech  and  firs, 
with  a growth  of  thorn  and  privet  underwood.  Here  you 
may  find  nests  of  the  strong  down  partridge  and  peewit, 
but  take  care  that  the  keeper  isn’t  down  upon  you ; and 
in  the  middle  of  it  is  an  old  cromlech,  a huge  flat  stone 
raised  on  seven  or  eight  others,  and  led  up  to  by  a path, 
with  large  single  stones  set  up  on  each  side.  This  is 
Wayland  Smith’s  cave,  a place  of  classic  fame  now;  but 
as  Sir  Walter  has  touched  it,  I may  as  well  let  it  alone 
and  refer  you  to  Kenilworth  for  the  legend 

The  thick  deep  wood  which  you  see  in  the  hollow,  about 
a mile  off,  surrounds  Ashdown  Park,  built  by  Inigo  Jones. 
Four  broad  alleys  are  cut  through  the  wood  from  circum- 
ference to  center,  and  each  leads  to  one  face  of  the  house. 
The  mystery  of  the  downs  hangs  about  house  and  wood,  as 
they  stand  there  alone,  so  unlike  all  around,  with  the  green 
slopes,  studded  with  great  stones  just  about  this  part, 
stretching  away  on  all  sides.  It  was  a wise  Lord  Craven, 
I think,  who  pitched  his  tent  there. 

Passing  along  the  Ridgeway  to  the  east,  we  soon  come 
to  cultivated  land.  The  downs,  strictly  so  called,  are  no 
more;  Lincolnshire  farmers  have  been  imported,  and  the 
long  fresh  slopes  are  sheep-walks  no  more,  but  grow  famous 
turnips  and  barley.  One  of  those  improvers  lives  over 
there  at  the  u Seven  Barrows”  farm,  another  mystery  of 
the  great  downs.  There  are  the  barrows  still,  solemn  and 
silent,  like  ships  in  the  calm  sea,  the  sepulchres  of  some 
sons  of  men.  But  of  whom  ? It  is  three  miles  from  the 
White  Horse,  too  far  for  the  slain  of  Ashdown  to  be 
buried  there — who  shall  say  what  heroes  are  waiting  there? 
But  we  must  get  down  into  the  vale  again,  and  so  away 
by  the  Great  Western  Railway  to  town,  for  time  and  the 


24 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


printer’s  devil  press,  and  it  is  a terrible  long  and  slippery 
descent,  and  a shocking  bad  road.  At  the  bottom,  how- 
ever, there  is  a pleasant  public,  whereat  we  must  really 
take  a modest  quencher,  for  the  down  air  is  provocative  of 
thirst.  So  we  pull  up  under  an  old  oak  which  stands  be- 
fore the  door. 

44  What  is  the  name  of  your  hill,  landlord  ? ” 

44  Blawing  Stwun  Hill,  sir,  to  be  sure.” 

[Reader.  “ Sturm  ? ” 

Author.  Stone,  stupid : the  Blowing  Stone”"] 

44  And  of  your  house  ? I can’t  make  out  the  sign.” 

44  Blawing  Stwun,  sir,”  says  the  landlord,  pouring  out 
his  old  ale  from  a Toby  Philpot  jug,  with  a melodious 
crash,  into  the  long  necked  glass. 

44  What  queer  names  ! ” say  we,  sighing  at  the  end  of  our 
draught,  and  holding  out  the  glass  to  be  replenished. 

44  Be’an’t  queer  at  all,  as  I can  see,  sir,”  says  mine  host, 
handing  back  our  glass,  44  seeing  as  this  here  is  the  Blaw- 
ing Stwun  hisself  ” putting  his  hand  on  a square  lump  of 
stone,  some  three  feet  and  a half  high,  perforated  with  two 
or  three  queer  holes,  like  petrified  antediluvian  rat-holes, 
which  lies  there  close  under  the  oak,  under  our  very  nose. 
We  are  more  than  ever  puzzled,  and  drink  our  second 
glass  of  ale,  wondering  what  will  come  next.  4<  Like  to 
near  un,  sir?”  says  mine  host,  setting  down  Toby  Philpot 
on  the  tray,  and  resting  both  hands  on  the  44  Stwun.”  We 
are  ready  tor  anything  ; and  he,  without  waiting  for  a re- 
ply, applies  his  mouth  to  one  of  the  rat-holes.  Something 
must  come  of  it,  if  he  doesn’t  burst.  Good  heavens ! 1 

hope  he  has  no  apoplectic  tendencies.  Yes,  here  it  comes, 
sure  enough,  a grewsome  sound  between  a moan  and  a 
roar,  and  spreads  itself  away  over  the  valley,  and  up  the 
hillside,  and  into  the  woods  at  the  back  of  the  house,  a 
ghost-like,  awful  voice,  44  Um  do  say,  sir,”  says  mine  host, 
rising,  purple-faced,  while  the  moan  is  still  coming  out  of 
the  44  Stwun,”  44  as  they  used  in  old  times  to  warn  the 
countryside,  by  blawing  the  stwun  when  the  enemy  was 
a-comin’ — and  as  how  folks  could  make  un  heered  then 
for  seven  mile  round;  leastways,  so  I’ve  heered  Lawyer 
Smith  say,  and  he  knows  a smart  sight  about  them  old 
times.”  We  can  hardly  swallow  Lawyer  Smith’s  seven 
miles,  but  could  the  blowing  of  the  stone  have  been  a 


TOM  BROWN9 S SCHOOL-BAYS . 


25 


summons,  a sort  of  sending  the  fiery  cross  round  the  neigh- 
borhood in  the  old  times?  What  old  times?  Who  knows? 
We  pay  for  our  beer,  and  are  thankful. 

“ And  what’s  the  name  of  the  village  just  below,  land- 
lord ? 

“ Kingstone  Lisle,  sir.” 

“ Fine  plantations  you’ve  got  here  I” 

“ Yes,  sir ; the  Squire’s  ’mazin’  fond  of  trees  and  such 
like.” 

“ No  wonder.  He’s  got  some  real  beauties  to  be  fond 
of.  Good  day,  landlord.” 

“ Good  day,  sir,  and  a pleasant  ride  to  ’e.” 

And  now,  my  boys,  you  whom  I want  to  get  for  read- 
ers, have  you  had  enough?  Will  you  give  in  at  once,  and 
say  you’re  convinced,  and  let  me  begin  my  story,  or  will 
you  have  more  of  it?  Remember,  I’ve  only  been  over  a 
little  bit  of  the  hillside  yet — what  you  could  ride  round 
easily  on  your  ponies  in  an  hour.  I’m  only  just  come 
down  into  the  vale,  by  Blowing  Stone  hill,  and  if  I once 
begin  about  the  vale,  what’s  to  stop  me?  You’ll  have  to 
hear  all  about  Wantage,  the  birthplace  of  Alfred,  and  Far- 
ringdon,  whicli  held  out  so  long  for  Charles  the  First  (the 
vale  was  near  Oxford,  and  dreadfully  malignant;  full  of 
Throgmortons,  and  Puseys,  and  Pyes,  and  such  like,  and 
their  brawny  retainers).  Did  you  ever  read  Thomas 
Ingoldsby’s  “ Legend  of  Hamilton  Tighe  ? ” If  you  haven’t, 
you  ought  to  have.  Well,  Farringdon  is  where  he  lived 
oefore  he  went  to  sea ; his  real  name  was  Hampden  Pye, 
and  the  Pyes  were  the  great  folk  at  Farringdon.  Then 
there’s  Pusey.  You’ve  heard  of  the  Pusey  horn,  which 
King  Canute  gave  to  the  Puseys  of  that  day,  and  which 
the  gallant  old  squire,  lately  gone  to  his  rest  (whom 
Berkshire  freeholders  turned  out  of  last  Parliament,  to 
their  eternal  disgrace,  for  voting  according  to  his  con- 
science), used  to  bring  out  on  high  days  and  holidays,  and 
bonfire  nights.  And  the  splendid  old  cross  church  at 
Uffington,  the  Uffingas  town; — how  the  whole  country 
side  teems  with  Saxon  names  and  memories  ! And  the 
old  moated  grange  at  Compton,  nestled  close  under  the 
hillside,  where  twenty  Marianas  may  have  lived,  with  its 
bright  water-lilies  in  the  moat,  and  its  yew  walk,  “ the 
cloister  walk,”  and  its  peerless  terraced  gardens.  There 


26 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-BAYS. 


they  all  are,  and  twenty  tilings  besides,  for  those  who  care 
about  them,  and  have  eyes.  And  these  are  the  sort  of 
things  you  may  find,  I believe,  every  one  of  you,  in  any 
common  English  country  neighborhood. 

Will  you  look  for  them  under  your  own  noses,  or  will  you 
not?  Well,  well;  I’ve  done  what  I can  to  make  you,  and 
if  you  will  go  gadding  over  half  Europe  now  every  holi- 
day, I can’t  help  it.  I was  born  and  bred  a west-country- 
man, thank  God  ! — a Wessex  man,  a citizen  of  the  noble 
Saxon  Kingdom  of  Wessex,  a regular  “ Angular  Saxon,  ” 
the  very  soul  of  me  “ adscriptus  glebe.”  There’s  noth- 
ing like  the  old  country-side  for  me,  and  no  music  like 
the  twang  of  the  real  old  Saxon  tongue,  as  one  gets  it 
fresh  from  the  veritable  chaw  in  the  White  Horse  Vale: 
and  I say  with  “ Gaarge  Ridler,”  the  old  west  country 
yeoman. 

“ Throo  aal  the  waarld  owld  Gaarge  would  bwoast 

Commend  me  to  merry  owld  England  mwoast ; 

While  vools  gwoes  prating  vur  and  nigh, 

We  st wops  at  whum,  my  dog  and  I.” 

Here,  at  any  rate,  lived  and  stopped  at  home  Squire 
Brown,  J.  P.  for  the  county  of  Berks,  in  a village  near 
the  foot  of  the  White  Horse  range.  And  here  he  dealt 
out  justice  and  mercy  in  a rough  way,  and  begat  sons 
and  daughters,  and  hunted  the  fox,  and  grumbled  at  the 
badness  of  the  roads  and  the  times.  And  his  wife  dealt 
out  stockings,  and  calico  shirts,  and  smock  frocks,  and 
comforting  drinks  to  the  old  folks  with  the  “ rheumatiz,” 
and  good  counsel  to  all ; and  kept  the  coal  and  clothes 
clubs  going,  for  Yuletide,  when  the  bands  of  mummers  came 
round,  dressed  out  in  ribbons  and  colored  paper  caps  and 
stamped  round  the  Squire’s  kitchen,  repeating,  in  true 
sing-song  vernacular,  the  legend  of  St.  George  and  his 
fight,  and  the  ten-pound  doctor,  who  plays  his  part  at 
healing  the  saint, — a relic,  I believe,  of  the  old  middle- 
age  mysteries.  It  was  the  first  dramatic  representation 
which  greeted  the  eyes  of  little  Tom,  who  was  brought 
down  into  the  kitchen  by  his  nurse  to  witness  it,  at  the 
mature  age  of  three  years.  Tom  was  the  eldest  child 
of  his  parents,  and  from  his  earliest  babyhood  exhibited 
the  family  characteristics  of  great  strength.  He  was  a 
hearty,  strong  boy  from  the  first,  given  to  fighting  with 


TOM  EDO  WN  ’ 6’  SCHOOL-DA  YS . 27 

and  escaping  from  his  nurse,  and  fraternizing  with 
a 1 the  village  boys,  with  whom  he  made  expeditions  all 
round  the  neighborhood.  And  here  in  the  quiet  old- 
fashioned  country  village,  under  the  shadow  of  the 
everlasting  lulls,  lorn  Brown  was  reared,  and  never  left  it  till 
he  went  hrst  to  school  when  nearly  eight  years  of  age, 
foi  in  those  days  change  of  air  twice  a year  was  not 
thought  absolutely  necessary  for  the  health  of  all  her 
Majesty  s lieges. 

I have  been  credibly  informed,  and  am  inclined  to  believe, 
that  the  various  boards  of  directors  of  railway  companies, 
tube  gigantic  jobbers  and  bribers,  whip  quarreling 
about  everything  else,  agreed  together,  some  ten  years 
back,  to  buy  up  the  learned  profession  of  medicine,  body 

oflonpv  rvtwnend  thej  Set  aPart  several  millions 
of  money,  which  they  continually  distribute  judiciously 
amongst  the  doctors,  stipulating  only  this  one  thing, 
a ey  snail  prescribe  change  of  air  to  every  patient 
who  can  pay,  or  borrow  money  to  pay,  a railway  fare,  and 
see  their  prescription  carried  out.  If  it  be  not  for  this, 
why  is  it  that  none  of  us  can  be  well  at  home  for  a year 
together  . It  wasn  t so  twenty  years  ago,— not  a bit  of 
it.  The  Browns  didn’t  go  out  of  the  county  once  in 
five  yeais.  A visit  to  Reading  or  Abingdon  twice  a 
year,  at  Assizes  or  Quarter  Sessions,  which  the  Squire 
made,  on  his  horse  with  a pair  of  saddle-bags  containing 

nir?°be-a  Stay  °fv  • day  or  two  at  some  country 
nei0hbors— or  an  expedition  to  a county  ball,  or  the 

yeomanry  review-made  up  the  sum  of  the  Brown 

dWw  r f0St  yfars-  A stra^  1!ra™  from  son,  ' 
distant  county  dropped  in  every  now  and  then  ; or  from 

ou,  on  grave  nag,  an  old  don,  contemporary  of  the 

aH/ill  Were  l0?MUp0n  by  the  Brown  household 
and  the  villagers  with  the  same  sort  of  feeling  with 

We  now  .refiM  a man  who  has  crossed  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  or  launched  a boat  on  the  Great  Lake  in 

traveill  f1Ca>  lhe,Whitf  Horse  Vale,  remember,  was 
tiaveised  by  no  great  road— nothing  but  country  parish 

oads  au(l  these  very  bad.  Only  one  coach  ran  there, 

western  7 u T,  Wantage  to  London,  so  that  the 
western  part  of  the  Vale  was  without  regular  means  of 

moving  on  and  certainly  didn’t  seem  to  want  them. 


28 


TOM  BROWN’S  SCHOOL-BAYS. 


There  was  the  canal,  by  the  way,  which  supplied  the  country 
side  with  coal,  and  up  and  down  which  continually  went 
the  long  barges,  with  the  big  black  men  lounging  by 
the  side  of  the  horses  along  the  towing-path,  and  the 
Women  in  bright-colored  handkerchiefs  standing  in  the 
sterns  steering.  Standing,  I say,  but  you  could  never  see 
whether  they  were  standing  or  sitting,  all  but  their  heads 
and  shoulders  being  out  of  sight  in  the  cozy  little  cabins 
which  occupied  some  eight  feet  of  the  stern,  and  winch 
Tom  Brown  pictured  to  himself  as  the  most  desirable  of 
residences.  His  nurse  told  him  that  those  good-natured- 
looking  women  were  in  the  constant  habit  of  entic- 
ing children  into  the  barges,  and  taking  them  up  to 
London  and  selling  them,  which  Tom  wouldn’t  believe, 
and  which  made  him  resolve  as  soon  as  possible  to  accept 
the  oft-proffered  invitation  of  these  sirens  to  “ young 
master,”  to  come  in  and  have  a ride.  But  as  yet  the 
nurse  was  too  much  for  Tom. 

Yet  why  should  I after  all  abuse  the  gadabout  propensi- 
ties of  my  countrymen?  We  are  a vagabond  nation  now, 
that’s  certain,  for  better  for  worse.  I am  a vagabond ; 
I have  been  away  from  home  no  less  than  five  distinct 
times  in  the  last  year.  The  Queen  sets  us  the  example — we 
are  moving  on  from  top  to  bottom.  Little  dirty  Jack,  who 
abides  in  Clement’s  Inn  gateway,  and  blacks  my  boots  for 
a penny,  takes  his  month’s  hop-picking  every  year  as  a mat- 
ter of  course.  Why  shouldn’t  he?  I’m  delighted  at  it. 
I love  vagabonds,  only  I prefer  poor  to  rich  ones ; — couriers 
and  ladies’  maids,  imperials  and  traveling  carriages  are  an 
abomination  unto  me — I cannot  away  with  them.  But 
for  dirty  Jack,  and  every  good  fellow  who,  in  the  words  of 
the  capital  French  song,  moves  about, 

Comme  le  limacon, 

Portant  tout  son  bagage, 

Ses  meubles,  sa  maison,” 

on  his  own  back,  why  good  luck  to  them,  and  many  a mer- 
ry road-side  adventure,  and  steainingsupper  in  the  chimney 
corners  of  road-side  inns,  Swiss  chalets,  Hottentot  kraals,  or 
wherever  else  they  like  to  go.  So  having  succeeded  in  con- 
tradicting myself  in  my  first  chapter  (which  gives  me  great 
hopes  that  you  will  all  go  on,  and  think  me  a good  fellow 
notwithstanding  my  crotchets),  I shall  here  shut  up  for  the 


THE  VEAST. 


29 


present,  and  consider  my  ways  ; having  resolved  to  “ sar’  it 
out,”  as  we  say  in  the  Vale,  “ holusbolus,”  just  as  it  comes, 
and  then  you’ll  probably  get  the  truth  out  of  me. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  YEAST. 

“ And  the  King  commandeth  and  forbiddeth,  that  from  henceforth 
neither  fairs  nor  markets  be  kept  in  Churchyards,  for  the  honor  of  the 
Church.” — Statutes  : 13  Edw . , Stat.  u.  cap.  vi. 

As  that  venerable  and  learned  poet  (whose  voluminous 
works  we  all  think  it  the  correct  thing  to  admire  and  talk 
about,  but  don’t  read  often)  most  truly  says,  “ the  child  is 
father  to  the  man  a fortiori,  therefore  he  must  hi  father 

to  the  boy.  So,  as  we  are  going  at  any  rate  to  see  Tom 
Brown  through  his  boyhood,  supposing  we  never  get  any 
further  (which,  if  you  show  a proper  sense  of  the  value  of 
this  history,  there  is  no  knowing  but  what  we  may),  let  us 
have  a look  at  the  life  and  environments  of  the  child,  in  the 
quiet  country  -village  to  which  we  were  introduced  in  the 
last  chapter. 

Tom,  as  has  been  already  said,  was  a robust  and  combat- 
ive urchin,  and  at  the  age  of  four  began  to  struggle  against 
the  yoke  and  authority  of  his  nurse.  That  functionary 
was  a good-hearted,  tearful,  scatter-brained  girl,  lately 
taken  by  Tom’s  mother,  Madam  Brown,  as  she  was 
called,  from  the  village  school  to  be  trained  as  nursery-maid. 
Madam  Brown  was  a rare  trainer  of  servants,  and  spent  her- 
self freely  in  the  profession;  for  profession  it  was,  and  gave 
her  more  trouble  by  half  than  a good  many  people  take  to 
earn  a good  income.  Her  servants  were  known  and  sought 
after  for  miles  round.  Almost  all  the  girls  who  attained  a 
certain  place  in  the  village  school  were  taken  by  her,  one  or 
two  at  a time,  as  housemaids,  laundry-maids,  nursery-maids 
or  kitchen-maids,  and  after  ayear  or  two’s  drilling  were 
started  in  life  among  the  neighboring  families,  with  good 
principles  and  wardrobes.  One  of  the  results  of  this  system 
was  the  perpetual  despair  of  Mrs.  Brown’s  cook  and  own 
maid,  who  no  sooner  had  a notable  girl  made  to  their  hands 


30 


TOM  BROWN’S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


than  Missus  was  sure  to  find  a good  place  for  her  and  send 
her  off,  taking  in  fresh  importations  from  the  school.  An- 
other was,  that  the  house  was  always  full  of  young  girls, 
with  clean  shining  faces,  who  broke  plates  and  scorched 
linen,  but  made  an  atmosphere  of  cheerful  homely  life  about 
the  place,  good  for  every  one  who  came  within  its  influence. 
Mrs.  Brown  loved  young  people,  and  in  fact  human  creat- 
ures in  general,  above  plates  and  linen.  They  were  more 
like  a lot  of  elder  children  than  servants,  and  felt  to  her 
more  as  a mother  or  aunt  than  as  a mistress. 

Tom’s  nurse  was  one  who  took  in  her  instruction 
very  slowly — she  seemed  to  have  two  left  hands  and  no 
head ; and  so  Mrs.  Brown  kept  her  on  longer  than  usual, 
that  she  might  expend  her  awkwardness  and  forgetfulness 
upon  those  who  would  not  judge  and  punish  her  too  strict- 
ly for  them. 

Charity  Lamb  was  her  name.  It  had  been  the  immemo- 
rial habit  of  the  village  to  christen  children  either  by  Bible 
names  or  by  those  of  the  cardinal  and  other  virtues;  so 
that  one  was  forever  hearing  in  the  village  street,  or  on  the 
green,  shrill  sounds  of  “ Prudence  ! Prudence  ! thee  cum’ 
out  o’  the  gutter  ; ” or  “ Mercy  ! d’rat  the  girl,  what  bist 
thee  a doin’  wi’  little  Faith?”  and  there  were  Ruths,  Ra- 
chels, Keziahs,  in  every  corner.  The  same  with  the  boys ; 
they  were  Benjamins,  Jacobs,  Noahs,  Enochs.  I suppose 
the  custom  has  come  down  from  Puritan  times  — there  it  is, 
at  any  rate,  very  strong  still  in  the  Vale. 

Well,  from  early  morn  till  dewy  eve,  when  she  had  it  out 
of  hi  min  the  cold  tub  before  putting  him  to  bed,  Charity 
and  Tom  were  pitted  against  one  another.  Physical  power 
was  as  yet  on  the  side  of  Charity,  but  she  hadn’t  a chance 
with  him  wherever  headwork  was  wanted.  This  war  of  inde- 
pendence began  every  morning  before  breakfast,  when  Char- 
ity escorted  her  charge  to  a neighboring  farmhouse  which 
supplied  the  Browns,  and  where,  by  his  mother’s  wish, 
Master  Tom  went  to  drink  whey  before  breakfast.  Tom 
had  no  sort  of  objection  to  whey,  but  he  had  a decided  lik- 
ing for  curds,  which  were  forbidden  as  unwholesome,  and 
there  was  seldom  a morning  that  he  did  not  manage  to  se- 
cure a handful  of  hard  curds,  in  defiance  of  Charity  and 
of  the  farmer’s  wife.  The  latter  good  soul  was  a gaunt 
angular  woman,  who,  with  an  old  black  bonnet  on  the  top 


THE  VEAST 


31 


of  her  head,  the  strings  dangling  about  her  shoulders,  and 
her  gown  tucked  through  her  pocket-holes,  went  clattering 
about  the  dairy,  cheese-room,  and  yard,  in  high  pattens. 
Charity  was  some  sort  of  niece  of  the  old  lady’s,  and  was 
consequently  free  of  the  farmhouse  and  garden,  into  which 
she  could  not  resist  going  for  the  purposes  of  gossip  and 
flirtation  with  the  heir-apparent,  who  was  a dawdling  fel- 
low, never  out  at  work  as  he  ought  to  have  been.  The 
moment  Charity  had  found  her  cousin,  or  any  other  occu- 
pation, Tom  would  slip  away;  and  in  a minute  shrill  cries 
would  be  heard  from  the  dairy,  “ Charity ! Charity ! thee 
lazy  hussy,  where  bist  ? ” and  Tom  would  break  cover,  hand 
and  mouth  full  of  curds  and  take  refuge  on  the  shaky  sur- 
face of  the  great  muck  reservoir  in  the  middle  of  the  yard, 
disturbing  the  repose  of  the  great  pigs.  Here  lie  was  in  safety, 
as  no  grown  person  could  follow  without  getting  over  their 
knees  ; and  the  luckless  Charity,  while  her  aunt  scolded 
her  from  the  dairy  door,  forlbeing  “ alius  hankering  about 
arter  our  Willum,  instead  of  minding  Master  Tom,  ” would 
descend  from  threats  to  coaxing,  to  lure  Tom  out  of  the 
muck,  which  was  rising  over  his  shoes ; and  would  soon  tell 
a tale  on  his  stockings  for  which  she  would  be  sure  to  catch 
it  from  missus’s  maid. 

Tom  had  two  abettors  in  the  shape  of  a couple  of  old 
boys,  Noah  and  Benjamin  by  name,  who  defended  him  from 
Charity,  and  expended  much  time  upon  his  education. 
They  were  both  of  them  retired  servants  of  former  genera- 
tions of  the  Browns.  Noah  Crooke  was  a keen  dry  old 
man  of  almost  ninety,  but  still  able  to  totter  about.  He 
talked  to  Tom  quite  as  if  he  were  one  of  his  own  family, 
and  indeed  had  long  completely  identified  the  Browns 
with  himself.  In  some  remote  age  he  had  been  the  attend- 
ant of  a Miss  Brown,  and  had  conveyed  her  about  the 
country  on  a pillion.  He  had  a little  round  picture  of  the 
identical  gray  horse,  caparisoned  with  the  identical  pil- 
lion, before  which  he  used  to  do  a sort  of  fetish  worship, 
and  abuse  turnpike  roads  and  carriages.  He  wore  an  old 
full-bottomed  wig,  the  gift  of  some  dandy  old  Brown  whom 
he  had  valeted  in  the  middle  of  last  century,  which  habili- 
ment Master  Tom  looked  upon  with  considerable  respect, 
not  to  say  fear;  and  indeed  his  whole  feeling  toward  Noah 
was  strongly  tainted  with  awe ; and  when  the  old  gen- 


82 


TOM  BBOWN’S  SCHOOL-BAYS. 


tleman  was  gathered  to  his  fathers,  Tom’s  lamentation 
over  him  was  not  unaccompanied  by  a certain  joy  at  hay- 
ing seen  the  last  of  the  wig : “ Poor  old  Noah,  dead  and 
gone,”  said  he,  u Tom  Brown  so  sorry!  Put  him  in  the 
coffin,  wig  and  all.” 

But  old  Benjy  was  young  Master’s  real  delight  and 
refuge.  He  was  a youth  by  the  side  of  Noah,  scarce  seventy 
years  old.  A cheery,  humorous,  kind-hearted  old  man, 
full  of  sixty  years  of  Yale  gossip,  and  of  all  sorts  of  help- 
ful ways  for  young  and  old,  but  above  all  for  children.  It 
was  he  who  bent  the  first  pin  with  which  Tom  extracted 
his  first  stickleback  out  of  “ Pebbly  Brook,”  the  little 
stream  which  ran  through  the  village.  The  first  stickle- 
back was  a splendid  fellow,  with  fabulous  red  and  blue 
gills.  Tom  kept  him  in  a small  basin  till  the  day  of  his 
death,  and  became  a fisherman  from  that  day.  Within  a 
month  from  the  taking  of  the  first  stickleback  Benjy  had 
carried  off  our  hero  to  the  canal,  in  defiance  of  Charity, 
and  between  them,  after  a whole  afternoon’s  popjoying, 
they  had  caught  three  or  four  small  coarse  fish  and  a perch, 
averaging  perhaps  two  and  a half  ounces  each,  which  Tom 
bore  home  in  rapture  to  his  mother  as  a precious  gift,  and 
she  received  like  a true  mother  with  equal  rapture,  instruct- 
ing the  cook  nevertheless,  in  a private  interview,  not  to 
prepare  the  same  for  the  Squire’s  dinner.  Charity  had  ap- 
pealed against  old  Benjy  in  the  meantime,  representing  the 
dangers  of  the  canal  banks ; but  Mrs.  Brown,  seeing  the 
boy’s  inaptitude  for  female  guidance,  had  decided  in  Benjy’s 
favor,  and  from  thenceforth  the  old  man  was  Tom’s  dry 
nurse.  And  as  they  sat  by  the  canal  watching  their  little 
green  and  white  float,  Benjy  would  instruct  him  in  the  do- 
ings of  deceased  Browns.  How  his  grandfather,  in  the 
early  days  of  the  great  war  when  there  was  much  distress 
and  crime  in  the  Yale,  and  the  magistrates  had  been  threat- 
ened by  the  mob,  had  ridden  in  with  a big  stick  in  his 
hand,  and  held  the  Petty  Sessions  by  himself.  How  his 
great  uncle,  the  Rector,  had  encountered  and  laid  the  last 
ghost,  who  had  frightened  the  old  women,  male  and  female, 
of  the  parish  out  of  their  senses,  and  who  turned  out  to  be 
the  blacksmith’s  apprentice,  disguised  in  drink  and  a white 
sheet.  It  was  Benjy  too  who  saddled  Tom’s  first  pony  and 
instructed  him  in  the  mysteries  of  horsemanship,  teaching 


THE  VEASTo 


33 


him  to  throw  his  weight  back  and  keep  his  hand  low  ; and 
who  stood  chuckling  outside  the  door  of  the  girls’  school, 
when  Tom  rode  his  little  Shetland  into  the  cottage  and 
round  the  table,  where  the  old  dame  and  her  pupils  were 
seated  at  their  work. 

Benjy  himself  was  come  of  a family  distinguished  in  the 
Vale  for  their  prowess  in  all  athletic  games.  Some  half- 
dozen  of  his  brothers  and  kinsmen  had  gone  to  the  wars, 
of  whom  only  one  had  survived  to  come  home,  with  a small 
pension,  and  three  bullets  in  different  parts  of  his  body  ; hd 
had  shared  Benjy’s  cottage  till  his  death,  and  had  left  him 
his  old  dragoon’s  sword  and  pistol,  which  hung  over  the 
mantelpiece,  flanked  by  a pair  of  heavy  single-sticks  with 
which  Benjy  himself  had  won  renown  long  ago  as  an  old 
gamester,  against  the  picked  men  of  Wiltshire  and  Somer- 
setshire, in  many  a good  bout  at  the  revels  and  pastimes  of 
the  country-side.  For  he  had  been  a famous  back-sword 
man  in  his  young  days,  and  a good  wrestler  at  elbow  and 
collar. 

Back-swording  and  wrestling  were  the  most  serious  holi- 
day pursuits  of  the  Vale — those  by  which  men  attained 
fame — and  each  village  had  its  champion.  I suppose  that 
on  the  whole  people  were  less  worked  then  than  they  are 
now;  at  any  rate,  they  seemed  to  have  more  time  and 
energy  for  the  old  pastimes.  The  great  times  for  back- 
swording  came  round  once  a year  in  each  village  at  the 
feast.  The  Vale  “ veasts”  were  not  the  common  statute 
feasts,  but  much  more  ancient  business.  They  are  literally, 
so  far  as  one  can  ascertain,  feasts  of  the  dedication,  i.  e.  they 
were  first  established  in  the  churchyard  on  the  day  on  which 
the  village  church  was  opened  for  public  worship,  which 
was  on  the  wake  or  festival  of  the  patron  saint,  and  have 
been  held  on  the  same  day  in  every  year  since  that  time. 

There  was  no  longer  any  remembrance  of  why  the 
44  veast  ” had  been  instituted,  but  nevertheless  it  had  a 
pleasant  and  almost  sacred  character  of  its  own.  For  it 
was  then  that  all  the  children  of  the  village,  wherever  they 
were  scattered,  tried  to  get  home  for  a holiday  to  visit  their 
fathers  and  mothers  and  friends,  bringing  with  them  their 
wages  or  some  little  gift  from  up  the  country  for  the  old 
folk.  Perhaps  for  a day  or  two  before,  but  at  any  rate  on, 
44  veast  day”  and  the  day  after,  in  our  village,  you  might. 


84 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


see  strapping  healthy  young  men  and  women  from  all  parts 
of  the  country  going  round  from  house  to  house  in  their 
best  clothes,  and  finishing  up  with  a call  on  Madam  Brown, 
whom  they  would  consult  as  to  putting  out  their  earnings 
to  the  best  advantage,  or  how  to  expend  the  same  best  for 
the  benefit  of  the  old  folk.  Every  household,  however 
poor,  managed  to  raise  a “ feast-cake  ” and  bottle  of  ginger 
or  raisin  wine,  which  stood  on  the  cottage  table  ready  for 
all  comers,  and  not  unlikely  to  make  them  remember  feast 
time — for  feast-cake  is  very  solid,  and  full  of  huge  raisins. 
Moreover,  feast-time*  was  the  day  of  reconciliation  for  the 
parish.  If  Job  Higgins  and  Noah  Freeman  hadn’t  spoken 
for  the  last  six  months,  their  “ old  women  ” would  be  sure 
to  get  it  patched  up  by  that  day.  And  though  there  was 
a good  deal  of  drinking  and  low  vice  in  the  booths  of  an 
evening,  it  was  pretty  well  confined  to  those  who  would 
have  been  doing  the  like,  “ veast  or  no  veast,”  and  on  the 
whole  the  effect  was  humanizing  and  Christian.  In  fact, 
the  only  reason  why  this  is  not  the  case  still  is  that  gentle- 
folk and  farmers  have  taken  to  other  amusements,  and 
have,  as  usual,  forgotten  the  poor.  They  don’t  attend  the 
feasts  themselves,  and  call  them  disreputable,  whereupon 
the  steadiest  of  the  poor  leave  them  also,  and  they  become 
what  they  are  called.  Class  amusements,  be  they  for 
dukes  or  plow-boj^s,  always  become  nuisances  and  curses 
to  a country.  The  true  charm  of  cricket  and  hunting  is, 
that  they  are  still  more  or  less  sociable  and  universal ; 
there’s  a place  for  every  man  who  will  come  and  take  his 
oart. 

No  one  in  the  village  enjoyed  the  approach  of  “veast 
day”  more  than  Tom,  in  the  year  in  which  he  was  taken 
under  old  Benjy’s  tutelage.  The  feast  was  held  in  a large 
green  field  at  the  lower  end  of  the  village.  The  road  to 
Farringdon  ran  along  one  side  of  it,  and  the  brook  by  the 
side  of  the  road  $ and  above  the  brook  was  another  large 
gentle  sloping  pasture  land,  with  a foot-path  running  down 
it  from  the  churchyard;  and  the  old  church,  the  originator 
of  all  tho  mirth,  towered  up  with  its  gray  walls  and  lancet 
widows,  overlooking  and  sanctioning  the  whole,  though  its 
own  share  therein  had  been  forgotten.  At  the  point  where 
the  footpath  crossed  the  brook  and  road,  and  entered  on 
the  field  where  the  feast  was  held,  was  a long  low  roadside 


THE  VEAST. 


35 


inn,  and  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  field  was  a large  white 
thatched  farmhouse,  where  dwelt  an  old  sporting  farmer, 
a great  promoter  of  the  revels. 

Past  the  old  church,  and  down  the  footpath,  pottered 
the  old  man  and  the  child  hand  in  hand  early  on  the  after- 
noon of  the  day  before  the  feast,  and  wandered  all  round 
the  ground,  which  was  already  being  occupied  by  the  u cheap 
Jacks,”  with  their  green  covered  carts  and  marvelous  as- 
sortment of  wares,  and  the  booths  of  more  legitimate  small 
traders  with  their  tempting  arrays  of  fairings  and  eatables; 
and  penny  peep-shows  and  other  shows,  containing  pink- 
eyed ladies,  and  dwarfs,  and  boa-constrictors,  and  wild  In- 
dians. But  the  object  of  most  interest  to  Benjy,  and  of 
course  to  his  pupil  also,  was  the  stage  of  rough  planks  some 
four  feet  high,  which  was  being  put  up  by  the  village  car- 
penter for  the  back-swording  and  wrestling  ; and  after  sur- 
veying the  whole  tenderly,  old  Benjy  led  his  charge  away 
to  the  roadside  inn,  where  he  ordered  a glass  of  ale  and  a 
long  pipe  for  himself,  and  discussed  these  unwonted  lux- 
uries on  the  bench  outside  in  the  soft  autumn  evening  with 
mine  host,  another  old  servant  of  the  Browns,  and  speculat- 
ed with  him  on  the  likelihood  of  a good  show  of  old  game- 
sters to  contend  for  the  morrow’s  prizes,  and  told  tales  of 
the  gallant  bouts  of  forty  years  back,  to  which  Tom  list- 
ened with  all  his  ear  and  eyes. 

Bnt  who  shall  tell  the  joy  of  the  next  morning,  when  the 
church  bells  were  ringing  a merry  peal,  and  old  Benjy  ap- 
peared in  the  servants’  hall,  resplendent  in  a long  blue  coat 
and  brass  buttons,  and  a pair  of  old  yellow  buckskins  and 
top-boots,  which  he  had  cleaned  for  and  inherited  from 
Toni’s  grandfather  ; a stout  thorn-stick  in  his  hand,  and  a 
nosegay  of  pinks  and  lavender  in  his  button-hole,  and.  led 
away  Tom  in  his  best  clothes,  and  two  new  shillings  in  his 
breeches-pockets  ? Those  two,  at  any  rate,  look  like  enjoy- 
ing the  day’s  revel. 

They  quicken  their  pace  when  they  get  into  the  church- 
yard, for  already  they  see  the  field  thronged  with  country 
folk,  the  men  in  clean  white  smocks  or  velveteen  or  fustian 
coats,  with  rough  plush  waistcoats  of  many  colors,  and  the 
women  in  the  beautiful  long  scarlet  cloak,  the  usual  out- 
door dress  of  west-country  women  in  those  days,  and  which 
often  descended  in  families  from  mother  to  daughter,  or  in 


86 


TOM  BBOWN’S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


new  fashioned  stuff  shawls,  which,  if  they  would  but  be- 
lieve it,  don’t  become  them  half  so  well.  The  air  resounds 
with  the  pipe  and  tabor,  and  the  drums  and  trumpets  ol 
the  showmen  shouting  at  the  doors  of  their  caravans,  ovei 
which  tremendous  pictures  of  the  wonders  to  be  seen  with- 
in hang  temptingly  ; while  through  all  rises  the  shrill  “ root 
too-too-too,”  of  Mr.  Punch,  and  the  unceasing  pan-pipe  ol 
his  satellite. 

44  Lawk  a’  massey,  Mr.  Benjamin,”  cries  a stout  motherly 
woman  in  a red  cloak,  as  they  enter  the  field,  “ be  that  you  ? 
Well  I never  ! you  do  look  purely.  And  how’s  the  Squire, 
and  Madam,  and  the  family  ? ” 

Benjy  graciously  shakes  hands  with  the  speaker,  who  has 
left  our  village  for  some  years,  but  has  come  over  for  Veast- 
day  on  a visit  to  an  old  gossip — and  gently  indicates  the 
heir  apparent  of  the  Browns. 

44  Bless  his  little  heart ! I must  gi’  un  a kiss.  Here, 
Susannah,  Susannah  ! ” cries  she,  raising  herself  from  the 
embrace,  44  come  and  see  Mr.  Benjamin  and  young  Master 
Tom.  You  minds  our  Sukey,  Mr.  Benjamin ; she  be  growed 
a rare  slip  of  a wench  since  you  seen  her,  tho’  her’ll  be  six- 
teen come  Martinmas.  I do  aim  to  take  her  to  see  Madam 
to  get  her  a place.” 

And  Sukey  comes  bouncing  away  from  a knot  of  old 
school-fellows,  and  drops  a courtesy  to  Mr.  Benjamin.  And 
elders  come  up  from  all  parts  to  salute  Benjy,  and  girls 
who  have  been  Madam’s  pupils  to  kiss  Master  Tom.  And 
they  carry  him  off  to  load  him  with  fairings  : and  he  re- 
turns to  Benjy,  his  hat  and  coat  covered  with  ribbons,  and 
his  pockets  crammed  with  wonderful  boxes  which  open  up- 
on ever  new  boxes  and  boxes,  and  popguns  and  trumpets, 
and  apples,  and  gilt  gingerbread  from  the  stall  of  Angel 
Heavens,  sole  vender  thereof  whose  booth  groans  with  kings 
and  queens,  and  elephants,  and  prancing  steeds,  all  gleam- 
ing with  gold.  There  was  more  gold  on  Angel’s  cakes  than 
there  is  ginger  in  those  of  this  degenerate  age.  Skilled 
diggers  might  yet  make  a fortune  in  the  churchyards  of 
the  Yale,  by  carefully  washing  the  dust  of  the  consumers, 
of  Angel’s  gingerbread.  Alas  ! he  is  with  his  namesakes, 
and  his  receipts  have,  I fear,  died  with  him. 

And  then  they  inspect  the  penny  peep-show,  at  least 
Tom  does,  while  old  Benjy  stands  outside  and  gossips,  and 


THE  VEAST. 


37 


walks  up  the  steps,  and  enters  the  mysterious  doors  of  the 
pink-eyed  lady  and  the  Irish  Giant,  who  do  not  by  any 
means  come  up  to  their  pictures ; and  the  boa  will  not 
swallow  his  rabbit,  but  there  the  rabbit  is  waiting  to  be 
swallowed — and  what  can  you  expect  for  tuppence  ? We 
are  easily  pleased  in  the  Vale.  Now  there  is  a rusli  of  the 
crowd,  and  a tinkling  bell  is  heard,  and  shouts  of  laughter  ; 
and  Master  Tom  mounts  on  Benjy’s  shoulders  and  beholds 
a jingling  match  in  all  its  glory.  The  games  are  begun, 
and  this  is  the  opening  of  them.  It  is  a quaint  game,  im- 
mensely amusing  to  look  at,  and  as  I don’t  know  whether 
it  is  used  in  your  counties,  I had  better  describe  it.  A 
large  roped  ring  is  made,  into  which  are  introduced  a dozen 
or  so  of  big  boys  and  young  men  who  mean  to  play  ; these 
are  carefully  blinded  and  turned  loose  into  the  ring,  and 
then  a man  is  introduced  not  blindfolded,  with  a bell  hung 
round  his  neck,  and  his  two  hands  tied  behind  him.  Of 
course  every  time  he  moves  the  bell  must  ring,  as  he  has 
no  hand  to  hold  it,  and  so  the  dozen  blindfolded  men  have 
to  catch  him.  This  they  cannot  always  manage  if  he  is  a 
lively  fellow,  but  half  of  them  always  rush  into  the  arms 
of  the  other  half,  or  drive  their  heads  together,  or  tumble 
over;  and  then  the  crowd  laughs  vehemently,  and  invents 
nicknames  for  them  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  and  they, 
if  they  be  choleric,  tear  off  the  handkerchiefs  which  blind 
them,  and  not  unfrequently  pitch  into  one  another,  each 
thinking  that  the  other  must  have  run  against  him  on  pur- 
pose. It  is  great  fun  to  look  at  a jingling-match  certainly, 
and  Tom  shouts  and  jumps  on  old  Benjy’s  shoulders  at  the 
sight,  until  the  old  man  feels  weary,  and  shifts  him  to  the 
strong  young  shoulders  of  the  groom,  who  has  just  got 
down  to  the  fun. 

And  now,  while  they  are  climbing  the  pole  in  another 
part  of  the  field,  and  muzzling  in  a flour-tub  in  another, 
the  old  farmer  whose  house,  as  has  been  said,  overlooks  the 
field,  and  who  is  master  of  the  revels,  gets  up  the  steps  on 
to  the  stage,  and  announces  to  all  whom  it  may  concern 
that  a half-sovereign  in  money  will  be  forthcoming  for  the 
old  gamester  who  breaks  most  heads  : to  which  the  Squire 
and  he  have  added  a new  hat. 

The  amount  of  the  prize  is  sufficient  to  stimulate  the  men 
of  the  immediate  neighborhood,  but  not  enough  to  bring 


38 


TOM  BROWN’S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


any  very  high  talent  from  a distance ; so  after  a glance  or 
two  i;ound,  a tall  fellow,  who  is  a down  shepherd,  chucks 
his  hat  on  to  the  stage  and  climbs  up  the  steps  looking 
rather  sheepish.  The  crowd  of  course  first  cheer,  and  then 
chaff  as  usual,  as  he  picks  up  his  hat  and  begins  handling 
the  sticks  to  see  which  will  suit  him. 

“Wooy,  Willum  Smith,  thee  cans’t  plaay  wi’  he  arra 
daay,”  says  his  companion  to  the  blacksmith’s  apprentice, 
a stout  young  fellow  of  nineteen  or  twenty.  Willum’s 
sweetheart  is  in  the  “ veast  ” somewhere  and  has  strictly 
enjoined  him  not  to  get  his  head  broke  at  back-s wording, 
on  pain  of  her  highest  displeasure  ; but  as  she  is  not  to  be 
seen  (the  women  pretend  not  to  like  to  see  the  back-sword 
play,  and  keep  away  from  the  stage),  and  as  his  hat  is 
decidedly  getting  old,  he  chucks  it  on  to  the  stage,  and  fol- 
lows himself,  hoping  that  he  will  only  have  to  break  other 
people’s  heads,  or  that  after  all  Rachel  won’t  really  mind. 

Then  follows  the  greasy  cap  lined  with  fur  of  a half-gipsy, 
poaching,  loafing  fellow,  who  travels  the  Vale,  not  for 
much  good,  I fancy  : 

Full  twenty  times  was  Peter  feared 

For  once  that  Peter  was  respected 

in  fact.  And  then  three  or  four  other  hats,  including  the 
glossy  castor  of  Joe  Willis,  the  self-elected  and  would-be 
champion  of  the  neighborhood,  a well-to-do  young  butcher 
of  twenty-eight  or  thereabouts,  and  a great  strapping  fel- 
low, with  his  full  allowance  of  bluster.  This  is  a capital 
show  of  gamesters,  considering  the  amount  of  the  prize  ; 
so  while  they  are  picking  their  sticks  and  drawing  their 
lots,  I think  I must  tell  you,  as  shortly  as  I can,  how  the 
noble  old  game  of  back-sword  is  played ; for  it  is  sadly 
gone  out  of  late,  even  in  the  Yale,  and  maybe  you  have 
never  seen  it. 

The  weapon  is  a good  stout  ash-stick  with  a large  bas- 
ket handle,  heavier  and  somewhat  shorter  than  a common 
single  stick.  The  players  are  called  “ old  gamesters  ” — • 
why,  I can’t  tell  you — and  their  object  is  simply  to  break 
one  another’s  heads : for  the  moment  that  blood  runs  an 
inch  anywhere  above  the  eyebrow  the  old  gamester  to  whom 
it  belongs  is  beaten,  and  has  to  stop.  A very  slight  blow 


THE  VEAST. 


89 


with  the  sticks  will  fetch  blood,  so  that  it  is  by  no  means 
a punishing  pastime,  if  the  men  don’t  play  on  purpose,  and 
savagely,  at  the  body  and  arms  of  their  adversaries.  The 
old  gamester  going  into  action  only  takes  off  his  hat  and 
coat,  and  arms  himself  with  a stick : he  then  loops  the 
fingers  of  his  left  hand  in  a handkerchief  or  strap  which 
he  fastens  round  his  left  leg,  measuring  the  length,  so  that 
when  he  draws  it  tight  with  his  left  elbow  in  the  air,  that 
elbow  shall  just  reach  as  high  as  his  crown.  Thus  you  see, 
so  long  as  he  chooses  to  keep  his  left  elbow  up,  regardless 
of  cuts,  he  has  a perfect  guard  for  the  left  side  of  his  head. 
Then  he  advances  his  right  hand  above  and  in  front  of  his 
head,  holding  his  stick  across  so  that  its  point  projects  an 
inch  or  two  over  his  left  elbow,  and  thus  his  whole  head  is 
completely  guarded,  and  he  faces  his  man  armed  in  like 
manner,  and  they  stand  some  three  feet  apart,  often  nearer 
and  feint  and  strike,  and  return  at  one  another’s  heads 
until  one  cries  “hold,”  or  blood  flows  ; in  the  first  case 
they  are  allowed  a minute’s  time,  and  go  on  again  ; in  the 
latter,  another  pair  of  gamesters  are  called  on.  If  good 
men  are  playing,  the  quickness  of  the  returns  is  marvelous  ; 
you  hear  the  rattle  like  that  a boy  makes  drawing  his  stick 
along  palings,  only  heavier,  and  the  closeness  of  the  men 
in  action  to  one  another  gives  it  a strange  interest  and 
makes  a spell  at  back-swording  a very  noble'  sight. 

They  are  all  suited  now  with  sticks,  and  Joe  Willis  and 
the  gipsy  man  have  drawn  the  first  lot.  So  the  rest  lean 
against  the  rails  of  the  stage,  and  Joe  and  the  dark  man 
meet  infthe  middle,  the  boards  having  been  strewed  with 
sawdust ; Joe’s  white  shirt  and  spotless  drab  breeches  and 
boots  contrasting  with  the  gipsy’s  coarse  blue  shirt  and 
dirty  green  velveteen  breeches  and  leather  gaiters.  Joe 
is  evidently  turning  up  his  nose  at  the  other,  and  half  in- 
sulted at  having  to  break  his  head. 

The  gipsy  is  a tough  active  fellow,  but  not  very  skilful 
with  his  weapon,  so  that  Joe’s  weight  and  strength  tell  in 
a minute  ; he  is  too  heavy  metal  for  him  ; whack,  whack, 
whack  come  his  blows,  breaking  down  the  gypsy’s  guard, and 
threatening  to  reach  his  head  every  moment.  There  it  is 
at  last — “ Blood,  blood  ! ” shout  the  spectators,  as  a thin 
stream  oozes  out  slowly  from  the  roots  of  his  hair,  and  the 
umpire  calls  to  them  to  stop.  The  gipsy  scowls  at  Joe 


40 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


under  his  brows  in  no  pleasant  manner,  while  Master  Joe 
swaggers  about,  and  makes  attitudes,  and  thinks  himself,  and 
shows  that  he  thinks  himself  the  greatest  man  in  the  field. 

Then  follow  several  stout  sets-to  between  the  other  can- 
didates for  the  new  hat,  and  at  last  come  the  shepherd  and 
Willum  Smith.  This  is  the  crack  set-to  of  the  day.  They 
are  both  in  famous  wind,  and  there  is  no  crying  “ hold”  ; 
the  shepherd  is  an  old  hand  and  up  to  all  the  dodges  ; he 
tries  them  one  after  another,  and  very  nearly  gets  at 
Willum’s  head  by  coming  in  near,  and  playing  over  his 
guard  at  the  half-stick,  but  somehow  Willum  blunders 
through,  catching  the  stick  on  his  shoulders,  neck,  sides, 
every  now  and  then,  anywhere  but  on  his  head,  and  his 
returns  are  heavy  and  straight,  and  he  is  the  youngest 
gamester  and  a favorite  in  the  parish,  and  his  gallant  stand 
brings  down  shouts  and  cheers,  and  the  knowing  ones 
think  he'll  win  if  he  keeps  steady,  and  Tom  on  the  groom’s 
shoulder  holds  his  hands  together,  and  can  hardly  breathe 
for  excitement. 

Alas  for  Willum  ! his  sweetheart,  getting  tired  of  female 
companionship,  has  been  hunting  the  booths  to  see  where 
he  can  have  got  to, and  now  catches  sight  cf  him  on  the  stage 
in  full  combat.  She  flushes  and  turns  pale  ; her  old  aunt 
catches  hold  of  her,  saying,  “ Bless’ee,  child,  doan’t  ’ee  go 
a’nigst  it ; ” but  she  breaks  away  and  runs  toward  the  stage, 
calling  his  name.  Willum  keeps  up  his  guard  stoutly,  but 
glances  for  a moment  toward  the  voice.  No  guard  will  do 
it,  Willum,  without  the  eye.  The  shepherd  steps  round 
and  strikes,  and  the  point  of  his  stick  just  grazes  Willum’s 
forehead,  fetching  off  the  skin,  and  the  blood  flows,  and 
the  umpire  cries  “Hold,”  and  poor  Willum’s  chance  is  up 
for  the  day.  But  he  takes  it  very  well,  and  puts  on  his 
old  hat  and.  coat,  and  goes  down  to  be  scolded  by  his 
sweetheart,  and  led  away  out  of  mischief.  Tom  hears  him 
say  coaxingly,  as  he  walks  off — 

“ Now  doon’t  ’ee,  Rachel ! I wouldn’t  ha’  done  it,  only 
I wanted  summut  to  buy’ee  a fairing  wi\  and  I be  as  vlush 
o’  money  as  a twod  o’  veathers.” 

“ Thee  mind  what  Itells’ee,”  rejoins  Rachel  saucily,  “and 
doan’t’ee  kep  blethering  about  fairings.”  Tom  resolves  in 
his  heart  to  give  Willum  the  remainder  of  his  two  shillings 
after  the  back-swording. 


THE  VEAST. 


41 


Joe  Willis  has  all  the  luck  to-day.  His  next  bout  ends 
in  an  easy  victory,  while  the  shepherd  has  a tough  job  to 
break  his  second  head:  and  when  Joe  and  the  shepherd 
meet,  and  the  whole  circle  expect  and  hope  to  see  him  get 
a broken  crown,  the  shepherd  slips  in  the  first  round  and 
falls  against  the  rails,  hurting  himself  so  that  the  old 
farmer  will  not  let  him  go  on,  much  as  he  wishes  to  try ; 
and  that  impostor  Joe  (for  he  is  certainly  not  the  best  man) 
struts  and  swaggers  about  the  stage  the  conquering 
gamester,  though  he  hasn’t  had  five  minutes  really  trying 
play. 

Joe  takes  the  new  hat  in  his  hand,  and  puts  the  money 
into  it,  and  then,  as  if  a thought  strikes  him  and  he  doesn’t 
think  his  victory  quite  acknowledged  down  below,  walks 
to  each  face  of  the  stage,  and  looks  down,  shaking  the 
money,  and  chaffing,  as  how  he’ll  stake  hat  and  money  and 
another  half-sovereign  “agin  any  gamester  as  hasn’t 
played  already.”  Cunning  Joe ! he  thus  gets  rid  of 
Willum  and  the  shepherd,  who  is  quite  fresh  again. 

No  one  seems  to  like  the  offer,  and  the  umpire  is  just 
coming  down,  when  a queer  old  hat,  something  like  a 
doctor  of  divinity’s  shovel,  is  chucked  on  to  the  stage,  and 
an  elderly  quiet  man  steps  out,  who  has  been  watching  the 
play,  saying  he  should  like  to  cross  a stick  wi’  the  prodi- 
galish  young  chap. 

The  crowd  cheer  and  begin  to  chaff  Joe,  who  turns  up 
his  nose  and  swaggers  across  to  the  sticks.  “ Imp’dent  old 
wosbird  ! ” says  he.  “ I’ll  break  the  bald  head  on  un  to  the 
truth.” 

The  old  boy  is  very  bald  certainly,  and  the  blood  will  show 
fast  enough  if  you  can  touch  him,  Joe. 

lie  takes  off  his  long  flapped  coat,  and  stands  up  in  a 
long  flapped  waistcoat,  which  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  might 
have  worn  when  it  was  new,  picks  out  a stick,  and  is  ready 
for  Master  Joe,  who  loses  no  time,  but  begins  his  old  game, 
whack,  whack,  whack,  trying  to  break  down  the  old  man’s 
guard  by  sheer  strength.  But  it  won’t  do, — he  catches 
every  blow  close  by  the  basket,  and  though  he  is  rather 
stiff  in  Lis  returns,  after  a minute  walks  Joe  about  the 
stage,  and  is  clearly  a staunch  old  gamester.  Joe  now 
comes  in,  and  making  the  most  of  his  height,  tries  to  get 
over  the  old  man’s  guard  at  half-stick,  by  which  he  takes  a 


12 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS . 


smart  blow  in  the  ribs  and  another  on  the  elbow  and  noth- 
ing more.  And  now  he  loses  wind  and  begins  to  puff,  and 
the  crowd  laugh:  “ Cry  ‘hold,’  Joe — thee’st  met  thy 
match ! ” Instead  of  taking  good  advice  and  getting  his 
wind,  Joe  loses  his  temper,  and  strikes  at  the  old  man's 
body. 

“ Blood,  blood ! ” shout  the  crowd,  “ Joe’s  head’s  broke  ! ” 

Who’d  have  thought  it?  How  did  it  come?  That 
body-blow  left  Joe’s  head  unguarded  for  a moment,  and 
with  one  turn  of  the  wrist  the  old  gentleman  has  picked  a 
neat  little  bit  of  skin  off  the  middle  of  his  forehead,  and 
though  he  won’t  believe  it,  and  hammers  on  for  three  more 
blows  despite  of  the  shouts,  is  then  convinced  by  the  blood 
trickling  into  his  eye.  Poor  Joe  is  sadly  crestfallen,  and 
fumbles  in  his  pocket  for  the  other  half-sovereign,  but  the 
old  gamester  won’t  have  it.  “ Keep  thy  money,  man,  and 
gi’s  thy  hand,”  says  he,  and  they  shake  hands  ; but  the  old 
gamester  gives  the  new  hat  to  the  shepherd,  and,  soon  after, 
the  half-sovereign  to  Willum,  who  thereout  decorates  his 
sweetheart  with  ribbons  to  his  heart’s  content. 

“Who  can  a be?”  “Wur  do  a cum  from?”  ask  the 
crowd.  And  it  soon  flies  about  that  the  old  west-country 
champion,  who  played  a tie  with  Shaw  the  Life-guardsman 
at  “ Vizes”  twenty  years  before,  has  broken  Joe  Willis’s 
crown  for  him. 

How  my  country  fair  is  spinning  out ! I see  I must  skip 
the  wrestling,  and  the  boys  jumping  in  sacks,  and  roll- 
ing wheelbarrows  blindfolded : and  the  donkey-race,  and 
the  fight  which  arose  thereout,  marring  the  otherwise  peace- 
ful “ veast ; ” and  the  frightened  scurrying  away  of  the 
female  feast-goers,  and  descent  of  Squire  Brown  summoned 
by  the  wife  of  one  of  the  combatants  to  stop  it ; which  he 
wouldn’t  start  to  do  till  he  had  got  on  his  top-boots.  Tom  is 
carried  away  by  old  Benjy,  dog-tired  and  surfeited  with 
pleasure,  as  the  evening  comes  on  and  the  dancing  begins  in 
the  booths ; and  though  Willum  and  Bachel  in  her  new 
ribbons  and  many  another  good  lad  and  lass  don’t  come 
away  just  yet,  but  have  a good  step  out,  and  enjoy  it,  and 
get  no  harm  thereby,  yet  we,  being  sober  folk,  will  just 
stroll  away  up  through  the  churchyard,  and  by  the  old 
yew-tree ; and  get  a quiet  dish  of  tea  and  a parle  with  our 
gossips,  as  the  steady  ones  of  our  village  do,  and  so  to  bed. 


THE  VEAST. 


. 43 


That’s  the  fair  true  sketch,  as  far  as  it  goes,  of  one  of 
the  larger  village  feasts  in  the  Vale  of  Berks  when  I was 
a little  boy.  They  are  much  altered  for  the  worst,  I am 
told.  I haven’t  been  at  one  these  twenty  years,  but  I have 
been  at  the  statute  fairs  in  some  west-country  towns,  where 
servants  are  hired,  and  greater  abominations  cannot  be 
found.  What  village  feasts  have  come  to,  T fear,  in  many 
cases,  may  be  read  in  the  pages  of  Yeast  (though  I never 
saw  one  so  bad — thank  God). 

Do  you  want  to  know  why  ? It  is  because,  as  I said 
before,  gentlefolk  and  farmers  have  left  off  joining  or 
taking  an  interest  in  them.  They  don’t  either  subscribe 
to  the  prizes,  or  go  down  and  enjoy  the  fun. 

Is  this  a good  or  a bad  sign  ? I hardly  know.  Bad, 
sure  enough,  if  it  only  arises  from  the  further  separation 
of  classes  consequent  on  twenty  years  of  buying  cheap  and 
selling  dear,  and  its  accompanying  over-work;  or  because 
our  sons  and  daughters  have  their  hearts  in  London  club- 
life,  or  so-called  society,  instead  of  in  the  old  English  home 
duties;  because  farmers’  sons  are  aping  fine  gentlemen, 
and  farmers’  daughters  caring  more  to  make  bad  foreign 
music  than  good  English  cheeses.  Good,  perhaps,  if  it  be 
that  the  time  for  the  old  “ veast  ” lias  gone  by,  that  it  is  no 
longer  the  healthy  sound  expression  of  English  country 
holiday-making  ; that,  in  fact,  we  as  a nation  have  got  be- 
yond it,  and  are  in  a transition  state,  feeling  for  and  soon 
likely  to  find  some  better  substitute. 

Only  I have  just  got  this  to  say  before  I quit  the  text. 
Don’t  let  reformers  of  any  sort  think  that  they  are  going 
really  to  lay  hold  of  the  working  boys  and  young  men  of 
England  by  any  educational  grapnel  whatever,  which  hasn’t 
some  bond  fide  equivalent  for  the  games  of  the  old  country 
u veast  ” in  it;  something  to  put  in  the  place  of  the  back- 
swording  and  wrestling  and  racing ; something  to  try  the 
muscles  of  men’s  bodies,  and  the  endurance  of  their  hearts, 
and  to  make  them  rejoice  in  their  strength.  In  all  the 
new-fangled  comprehensive  plans  which  I see,  this  is  all 
left  out : and  the  consequence  is,  that  your  great  Me- 
chanics’ Institutes  end  in  intellectual  priggism,  and  your 
Christian  Young  Men’s  Societies  in  religious  Pharisaism. 

Well,  well,  we  must  bide  our  time.  Life  isn’t  all  beer  and 
skittles, — but  beer  and  skittles,  or  something  better  of  the 


44 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


same  sort,  must  form  a good  part  of  every  Englishman’s 
education.  If  I could  only  drive  this  into  the  heads  of 
you  rising  Parliamentary  Lords,  and  young  swells  who 
“ have  your  ways  made  for  you,”  as  the  saying  is, — }mu, 
who  frequent  palaver  houses  and  West-end  clubs,  waiting 
always  ready  to  strap  j^ourselves  on  to  the  back  of  poor 
dear  old  John,  as  soon  as  the  present  used-up  lot  (your 
fathers  and  uncles),  who  sit  there  on  the  great  Parlia- 
mentary-majorities’ pack-saddle,  and  make  believe  they’re 
guiding  him  with  their  red-tape  bridle,  tumble,  or  have  to 
be  lifted  off! 

I don’t  think  much  of  you  yet — I wish  I could;  though 
you  do  go  talking  and  lecturing  up  and  down  the  country 
to  crowded  audiences,  and  are  busy  with  all  sorts  of  phil- 
anthropic intelleetualism,  and  circulating  libraries  and 
museums,  and  Heaven  only  knows  what  besides  ; and  try 
to  make  us  think,  through  newspaper  reports,  that  you  are 
even  as  we,  of  the  working  classes.  But,  bless  your  hearts, 
we  “ ain’t  so  green,”  though  lots  of  us  of  all  sorts  toady 
you  enough  certainly,  and  try  to  make  you  think  so. 

I’ll  tell  you  what  to  do  now ; instead  of  all  this  trum- 
peting and  fuss,  which  is  only  the  old  Parliamentary-ma- 
jority dodge  over  again — just  you  go  each  of  you  (you’ve 
plenty  of  time  for  it,  if  you’ll  only  give  up  t’other  line) 
and  quietly  make  three  or  four  friends,  real  friends,  among 
us.  You’ll  find  a little  trouble  in  getting  at  the  right  sort, 
because  such  birds  don’t  come  lightly  to  your  lure — but 
found  they  may  be.  Take,  say,  two  out  of  the  professions, 
lawyer,  parson,  doctor — which  you  will ; one  out  of  trade, 
and  three  or  four  out  of  the  working  classes — tailors,  engi- 
neers, carpenters,  engravers — there’s  plenty  of  choice.  Let 
them  be  men  of  your  own  ages,  mind,  and  ask  them  to 
your  homes  ; introduce  them  to  your  wives  and  sisters, 
and  get  introduced  to  theirs  ; give  them  good  dinners,  and 
talk  to  them  about  what  is  really  at  the  bottom  of  your 
heart,  and  box,  and  run,  and  row  with  them,  when  you 
have  a chance.  Do  all  this  honestly  as  man  to  man,  and 
by  the  time  you  come  to  ride  old  John,  you’ll  be  able  to 
do  something  more  than  sit  on  his  back,  and  may  feel  his 
mouth  with  some  stronger  bridle  than  a red-tape  one. 

Ah,  if  you  only  would  ! But  you  have  got  too  far  out 
of  the  right  rut,  I fear.  Too  much  over-civilization  and 


SUNDRY  WARS  AND  ALLIANCES. 


45 


the  deceitfulness  of  riches.  It  is  easier  for  a camel  to  go 
through  the  eye  of  a needle.  More’s  the  pity.  I never 
came  across  but  two  of  you  who  could  value  a man  wholly 
and  solely  for  what  was  in  him  ; who  thought  themselves 
verily  and  indeed  of  the  same  flesh  and  blood  as  John 
Jones,  the  attorney’s  clerk,  and  Bill  Smith,  the  costermon- 
ger, and  could  act  as  if  they  thought  so. 


CHAPTER  III. 

SUNDRY  WARS  AND  ALLIANCES. 

Poor  old  Benjy  ! the  “ rheumatiz  ” has  much  to  answer 
for  all  through  English  country-sides,  but  it  never  played 
a scurvier  trick  than  in  laying  thee  by  the  heels,  when  tliou 
wast  yet  in  a green  old  age.  The  enemy,  which  had  long 
been  carrying  on  a sort  of  border  warfare,  and  trying  his 
strength  against  Benjy’s  on  the  battle-field,  of  his  hands 
and  legs,  now  mustering  all  his  forces,  began  laying  siege 
to  the  citadel,  and  overrunning  the  whole  country.  Ben;y 
was  seized  in  the  back  and  loins ; and  though  he  made 
strong  and  brave  fight,  it  was  soon  clear  enough  that  all 
which  could  be  beaten  of  poor  old  Benjy  would  have  to 
give  in  before  long. 

It  was  as  much  at  he  could  do  now,  with  the  help  of  his 
big  stick  and  frequent  stops,  to  hobble  down  to  the  canal 
with  Master  Tom,  and  bait  his  hook  for  him,  and  sit  and 
watch  his  angling,  telling  him  quaint  old  country  stories  ; 
and  when  Tom  had  no  sport,  and,  detecting  a rat  some 
hundred  yards  or  so  off  along  the  bank,  would  rush  off  with 
Toby  the  turnspit  terrier,  his  other  faithful  companion,  in 
bootless  pursuit,  he  might  have  tumbled  in  and  been 
drowned  twenty  times  over  before  Benjy  could  have  got 
near  him. 

Cheery  and  unmindful  of  himself  as  Benjy  was,  this  loss 
of  locomotive  power  bothered  him  greatly.  He  had  got  a 
new  object  in  his  old  age,  and  was  just  beginning  to  think 
himself  useful  again  in  the  world.  He  feared  much  too 
lest  Master  Tom  should  fall  back  again  into  the  hands  of 
Charity  and  the  women.  So  he  tried  everything  he  could 


46 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS . 


think  of  to  get  set  up.  He  even  went  an  expedition  to  the 
dwelling  of  one  of  those  queer  mortals,  who — say  what  we 
will,  and  reason  how  we  will — do  cure  simple  people  of 
diseases  of  one  kind  or  another  without  the  aid  of  physic  ; 
and  so  get  to  themselves  the  reputation  of  using  charms, 
and  inspire  for  themselves  and  their  dwellings  great  respect, 
not  to  say  fear,  among  a simple  folk  such  as  the  dwellers 
in  the  Vale  of  White  Horse.  Where  this  power,  or  what- 
ever else  it  may  be,  descends  upon  the  shoulders  of  a man 
whose  ways  are  not  straight,  he  becomes  a nuisance  to  the 
neigh borhood ; a receiver  of  stolen  goods,  giver  of  love- 
potions,  and  deceiver  of  silly  women  ; the  avowed  enemy 
of  law  and  order,  of  justices  of  the  peace,  headboroughs, 
and  gamekeepers.  Such  a man  in  fact  as  was  recently 
caught  tripping,  and  deservedly  dealt  with  by  the  Leeds 
justices,  for  seducing  a girl  who  had  come  to  him  to  get 
back  a faithless  lover,  and  has  been  convicted  of  bigamy 
since  then.  Sometimes,  however,  they  are  of  quite  a dif- 
ferent stamp,  men  who  pretend  to  nothing,  and  are  with 
difficulty  persuaded  to  exercise  their  occult  arts  in  the 
simplest  cases. 

Of  this  latter  sort  was  old  farmer  Ives,  as  he  was  called, 
the  44  wise  man  ” to  whom  Benjy  resorted  (taking  Tom  with 
him  as  usual)  in  the  early  spring  of  the  year  next  after  the 
feast  described  in  the  last  chapter.  Why  he  was  called 
44  farmer  ” I cannot  say,  unless  it  be  that  he  was  the  owner 
of  a cow,  a pig  or  two,  and  some  poultry,  which  he  main- 
tained on  about  an  acre  of  land  inclosed  from  the  middle 
of  a wild  common,  on  which  probably  his  father  had 
squatted  before  lords  of  manors  looked  as  keenly  after  their 
rights  as  they  do  now.  Here  he  had  lived  no  one  knew 
how  long,  a solitary  man.  It  was  often  rumored  that  he 
was  to  be  turned  out  and  his  cottage  pulled  down,  but 
somehow  it  never  came  to  pass ; and  his  pigs  and  cow  went 
grazing  on  the  common,  and  his  geese  hissed  at  the  passing 
children  and  at  the  heels  of  the  horse  of  my  lord’s  steward, 
who  often  rode  by  with  a covetous  eye  on  the  inclosure, 
still  unmolested.  His  dwelling  was  some  miles  from  our 
village  ; so  Benjy,  who  was  half  ashamed  of  his  errand,  and 
wholly  unable  to  walk  there,  had  to  exercise  much  ingen- 
uity to  get  the  means  of  transporting  himself  and  Tom 
thither  without  exciting  suspicion.  However,  one  fine  May 


SUNDBY  WABS  AND  ALLIANCES. 


47 


morning  he  managed  to  borrow  the  old  blind  pony  of  our 
friend  the  publican,  and  Tom  persuaded  Madam  Brown  to 
give  him  a holiday  to  spend  with  old  Benjy,  and  to  lend 
them  the  Squire’s  light  cart,  stored  with  bread  and  cold 
meat  and  a bottle  of  ale.  And  so  the  two  in  high  glee 
started  behind  old  Dobbin,  and  jogged  along  the  deep-rutted 
plashy  roads,  which  had  not  been  mended  after  their 
winter’s  wear,  toward  the  dwelling  of  the  wizard.  About 
noon  they  passed  the  gate  which  opened  on  to  the  large 
common,  and  old  Dobbin  toiled  slowly  up  the  hill,  while 
Benjy  pointed  out  a little  deep  dingle  on  the  left,  out  of 
which  welled  a tiny  streem.  As  they  crept  up  the  hill  the 
tops  of  a few  birch  trees  came  in  sight,  and  blue  smoke 
curling  up  through  their  delicate  light  boughs  ; and  then 
the  little  white  thatchei  home  and  patch  of  inclosed  ground 
of  farmer  Ives,  lying  cradled  in  the  dingle,  with  the  gay 
gorse  common  rising  behind  and  on  both  sides ; while  in 
front,  after  traversing  a gentle  slope,  the  eye  might  travel 
for  miles  and  miles  over  the  rich  vale.  They  now  left  the 
main  road  and  struck  into  a green  track  over  the  common 
marked  lightly  with  the  wheel  and  horse-shoe,  which  led 
down  into  the  dingle  and  stopped  at  the  rough  gate  of 
farmer  Ives  Here  they  found  the  farmer,  an  iron-gray 
old  man,  with  a bushy  eyebrow  and  strong  aquiline  nose, 
busied  in  one  of  his  vocations.  He  was  a horse  and  cow 
doctor,  and  was  tending  a sick  beast  which  has  been  sent 
up  to  be  cured.  Benjy  hailed  him  as  an  old  friend,  and  he 
returned  the  greeting  cordially  enough,  looking,  however, 
hard  for  a moment  both  at  Benjy  and  Tom,  to  see  whether 
there  was  more  in  their  visit  than  appeared  at  first  sight. 
It  was  a work  of  some  difficulty  and  danger  for  Benjy  to 
reach  the  ground,  which,  however,  he  managed  to  do 
without  mishap  ; and  then  he  devoted  himself  to  unhar- 
nessing Dobbin,  and  turning  him  out  for  a graze  (“a  run” 
one  could  not  say  of  that  virtuous  steed)  on  the  common. 
This  done,  he  extricated  the  cold  provisions  from  the  cart, 
and  they  entered  the  farmer’s  wicket;  and  he,  shutting  up 
the  knife  with  which  he  was  taking  maggots  out  of  the 
cow’s  back  and  sides,  accompanied  them  toward  the  cottage. 
A big  old  lurcher  got  up  slowly  from  the  door-stone,  stretch- 
ing first  one  hind  leg  and  then  the  other,  and  taking 
Tom’s  caresses  and  the  presence  of  Toby,  who  kept,  how- 


48 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-BAYS. 


ever,  at  a respectful  distance,  with  equal  indifference. 

“ Us  be  cum  to  pay’e  a visit.  I’ve  a been  long  minded  to 
do’t  for  old  sake’s  sake,  only  I vinds  dwont  get  about  now 
as  I’d  use  to’t.  I be  so  plaguy  bad  wi’  th’  rumatiz  in  my 
back.”  Benjy  paused,  in  hopes  of  drawing  the  farmer  at 
once  on  the  subject  of  his  ailment  without  further  direct 
application. 

“ Ah,  I see  as  you  bean’t  quite  so  lissom  as  you  was,”  re- 
plied the  farmer  with  a grim  smile,  as  he  lifted  the  latch  of 
his  door ; “ we  bean’t  so  young  as  we  was,  nother  on  us, 
wuss  luck.” 

The  farmer’s  cottage  was  very  like  those  of  the  better 
class  of  peasantry  in  general.  A snug  chimney  corner  with 
two  seats,  and  a small  carpet  on  the  hearth,  an  old  flint  gun 
and  a pair  of  spurs  over  the  fireplace,  a dresser  with  shelves 
on  which  some  bright  pewter  plates  and  croekeryware  were 
arranged,  an  old  walnut  table,  a few  chairs  and  settles, 
some  framed  samplers,  and  an  old  print  or  two,  and  a book- 
case with  some  dozen  volumes  on  the  walls,  a rack  with 
flitches  of  bacon,  and  other  stores  fastened  to  the  ceiling, 
and  you  have  the  best  part  of  the  furniture.  No  sign  of 
occult  art  is  to  be  seen,  unless  the  bundles  of  dried  herbs 
hanging  to  the  rack  and  in  the  ingle,  and  the  row  of  labeled 
phials  on  one  of  the  shelves,  betoken  it. 

Tom  played  about  with  some  kittens  who  occupied  the 
hearth,  and  with  a goat  who  walked  demurely  in  at  the 
open  door,  while  their  host  and  Benjy  spread  the  table  for 
dinner — and  was  soon  engaged  in  conflict  with  the  cold 
meat,  to  which  he  did  much  honor.  The  two  old  men’s 
talk  was  of  old  comrades  and  their  deeds,  mute,  inglorious 
Miltons  of  the  Yale,  and  of  the  doings  thirty  years  back — - 
which  didn’t  interest  him  much,  except  when  they  spoke 
of  the  making  of  the  canal,  and  then  indeed  he  began  to 
listen  with  all  his  ears,  and  learned  to  his  no  small  wonder 
that  his  dear  and  wonderful  canal  had  not  been  there 
always — was  not  in  fact  so  old  as  Benjy  or  farmer  Ives, 
which  caused  a strange  commotion  in  his  small  brain. 

After  dinner  Benjy  called  attention  to  a wart  which  Tom 
had  on  the  knuckles  of  his  hand,  and  which  the  family 
doctor  had  been  trying  his  skill  on  without  success,  and 
begged  the  farmer  to  charm  it  way.  Farmer  Ives  looked 
at  it,  muttered  something  or  another  over  it,  and  cut  some 


SUNDRY  WARS  AND  ALLIANCES . 


49 


notches  in  a short  stick,  which  he  handed  to  Benjy,  giving 
him  instructions  for  cutting  it  down  on  certain  days,  and 
cautioning  Tom  not  to  meddle  with  the  wart  for  a fort- 
night. And  then  they  strolled  out  and  sat  on  a bench  in 
the  sun  with  their  pipes,  and  the  pigs  came  up  and  grunted 
sociably  and  let  Tom  scratch  them ; and  the  farmer,  seeing 
how  he  like  animals,  stood  up  and  held  his  arms  in  the  air 
and  gave  a call,  which  brought  a flock  of  pigeons  wheeling 
and  dashing  through  the  birch-trees.  They  settled  down 
in  clusters  on  the  farmer’s  arms  and  shoulders,  making  love 
to  him  and  scrambling  over  one  another’s  back  to  get  to 
his  face ; and  then  he  threw  them  all  off,  and  they  fluttered 
about  close  by,  and  lighted  on  him  again  and  again  when 
he  held  up  his  arms.  All  the  creatures  about  the  place 
were  clean  and  fearless,  quite  unlike  their  relations  else- 
where ; and  Tom  begged  to  be  taught  how  to  make  all  the 
pigs  and  cows  and  poultry  in  our  village  tame,  at  which 
the  farmer  only  gave  one -of  his  grim  chuckles. 

It  wasn’t  till  they  were  just  ready  to  go  and  old  Dobbin 
was  harnessed  that  Benjy  broached  the  subject  of  his  rheu- 
matism again,  detailing  his  symptoms  one  by  one.  Poor 
old  boy ! He  hoped  the  farmer  could  charm  it  away  as 
easily  as  he  could  Tom’s  wart,  and  was  ready  with  equal 
faith  to  put  another  notched  stick  into  his  other  pocket, 
for  the  cure  of  his  own  ailments.  The  physician  shook  his 
head,  but  nevertheless  produced  a bottle  and  handed  it  to 
Benjy  with  instructions  for  use.  “Not  as  ’til  do’e  much 
good — leastways  I be  afeard  not,”  shading  his  eyes  with 
his  hand  and  looking,  up  at  them  in  the  cart : “ there’s  only 
one  thing  as  I knows  on  as’ll  cure  old  folks  like  }^ou  and  I 
o’  th’  rumatiz.” 

“ Wot  be  that  then,  farmer  ? ” inquired  Benjy. 

“ Churchyard  mold,”  said  the  old  iron-gray  man,  with 
another  chuckle.  And  so  they  said  their  good-byes  and 
went  their  ways  home.  Tom’s  wart  was  gone  in  a fortnight, 
but  not  so  Benjy’s  rheumatism,  which  laid  him  by  the  heels 
more  and  more.  And  though  Tom  still  spent  many  an 
hour  with  him,  as  he  sat  on  a bench  in  the  sunshine,  or  by 
the  chimney  corner  when  it  was  cold,  he  soon  had  to  seek 
elsewhere  for  his  regular  companions. 

Tom  had  been  accustomed  often  to  accompany  his  mother 
in  her  visits  to  the  cottages,  and  had  thereby  made  acquaint- 


50 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DA  YS. 


ance  with  many  of  the  village  boys  of  his  own  age.  There 
was  Job  Rudkin,  son  of  widow  Rudkin,  the  most  bustling 
woman  in  the  parish.  How  she  could  ever  have  had  such 
a stolid  boy  as  Job  for  a child  must  always  remain  a mys- 
tery. The  first  time  Tom  went  to  their  cottage  with  his 
mother  Job  was  not  in-doors,  but  he  entered  soon  after, 
and  stood  with  both  hands  in  his  pockets  staring  at  Tom. 
Widow  Rudkin,  who  would  have  had  to  cross  madam  to 
get  at  young  Hopeful — a breach  of  good  manners  of  which 
she  was  wholly  incapable — began  a series  of  pantomime 
signs,  which  only  puzzled  him,  and  at  last,  unable  to  con- 
tain herself  longer,  burst  out  with,  “ Job ! Job!  where’s 
thy  cap  ? ” 

“What!  beant’e  on  ma’  head,  mother?”  replied  Job, 
slowly  extricating  one  hand  from  a pocket  and  feeling  for 
the  article  in  question  : which  he  found  on  his  head  sure 
enough,  and  left  there,  to  his  mother’s  horror  and  Tom’s 
great  delight. 

Then  there  was  poor  Jacob  Dodson,  the  half-witted  boy, 
who  ambled  about  cheerfully,  undertaking  messages  and 
little  helpful  odds  and  ends  for  every  one,  which,  however, 
poor  Jacob  managed  always  hopelessly  to  embrangle. 
Everything  came  to  pieces  in  his  hands,  and  nothing  would 
stop  in  his  head.  They  nicknamed  him  Jacob  Doodle-calf. 

But  above  all  there  was  Harry  Winburn,  the  quickestand 
best  boy  in  the  parish.  He  might  be  a yea.  older  than 
Tom,  but  was  very  little  bigger,  and  lie  was  the  Crichton 
of  our  village  boys.  He  could  wrestle  and  climb  and  run 
better  than  all  the  rest,  and  learned  all  that  the  schoolmas- 
ter could  teach  him  faster  than  that  worthy  at  all  liked. 
He  was  a boy  to  be  proud  of,  with  his  curly  brown  hair, 
keen  gray  eye,  straight  active  figure,  and  little  ears  and 
hands  and  feet,  “ as  fine  as  a lord’s,”  as  Charity  remarked 
to  Tom  one  day,  talking  as  usual  great  nonsense.  Lord’s 
hands  and  ears  and  feet  are  just  as  ugly  as  other  folks’ 
when  they  are  children,  as  any  one  may  convince  themselves 
if  they  like  to  look.  Tight  boots  and  gloves,  and  doing 
nothing  with  them,  I allow  make  a difference  by  the  time 
they  are  twenty. 

Now  that  Benjy  was  laid  on  the  shelf,  and  his  young 
brothers  were  still  under  petticoat  government,  Tom,  in 
search  of  companions,  began  to  cultivate  the  village  boys 


SUNDRY  WARS  AND  ALLIANCES . 


51 


generally  more  and  more.  Squire  Brown,  be  it  said,  was 
a true  blue  Tory  to  the  backbone,  and  believed  honestly 
that  the  powers  which  be  were  ordained  of  God,  and  that 
loyalty  and  steadfast  obedience  were  men’s  first  duties. 
Whether  it  were  in  consequence  or  in  spite  of  his  political 
creed  I do  not  mean  to  give  an  opinion,  though  I have  one  ; 
but  certain  it  is,  that  he  held  therewith  divers  social  prin- 
ciples not  generally  supposed  to  be  true  blue  in  color. 
Foremost  of  these,  and  the  one  which  the  Squire  loved  to 
propound  above  all  others,  was  the  belief  that  a man  is  to 
be  valued  wholly  and  solely  for  that  which  he  is  in  himself, 
for  that  which  stands  up  in  the  four  fleshly  walls  of  him, 
apart  from  clothes,  rank,  fortune,  and  all  externals  whatso- 
ever. Which  belief  I take  to  be  a wholesome  corrective  of 
all  political  opinions,  and,  if  held  sincerely,  to  make  all 
opinions  equally  harmless,  whether  they  be  blue,  red,  or 
green.  As  a necessary  corollary  to  this  belief,  Squire 
Brown  held  further  that  it  didn’t  matter  a straw  whether 
his  son  associated  with  lords  sons  or  plowmen’s,  sons  provided 
they  were  brave  and  honest.  He  himself  had  played  foot- 
ball and  gone  birds’  nesting  with  the  farmers  whom  he  met 
at  vestry  and  the  laborers  who  tilled  their  fields,  and  so  had 
his  father  and  grandfather  with  their  progenitors.  So  he 
encouraged  Tom  in  his  intimacy  with  the  boys  of  the  vil- 
lage, and  forwarded  it  by  all  means  in  his  power,  and  gave 
them  the  run  of  a close  for  a playground,  and  provided 
bats  and  balls  and  a football  for  their  sports. 

Our  village  was  blessed  among  other  things  with  a well- 
endowed  school.  The  building  stood  by  itself,  apart  from 
the  master’s  house,  on  an  angle  of  ground  where  three 
roads  met ; an  old  gray  stone  building  with  a steep  roof 
and  mullioned  windows.  On  one  of  the  opposite  angles 
stood  Squire  Brown’s  stables  and  kennels,  with  their  backs 
to  the  road,  over  which  towered  a great  elm-tree  ; on  the 
third  stood  the  village  carpenter’s  and  wheelwright’s  large 
open  shop,  and  his  house  and  the  schoolmaster’s,  with  long 
low  eaves  under  which  the  swallows  built  by  scores. 

The  moment  Tom’s  lessons  were  over  he  would  now  get 
him  down  to  this  corner  by  the  stables,  and  watch  till  the 
boys  came  out  of  school.  He  prevailed  on  the  groom  to 
cut  notches  for  him  in  the  bark  of  the  elm,  so  that  he  could 
climb  into  the  lower  branches,  and  there  he  would  sit 


52 


TOM  BRO  WN  ’ S SCIIOOL-DA  VS. 


watching  the  school  door,  and  speculating  on  the  possibility 
of  turning  the  elm  into  a dwelling-place  for  himself  and 
friends  after  the  manner  of  the  Swiss  Family  Robinson. 
But  the  school  hours  were  long  and  Tom’s  patience  short, 
so  that  soon  lie  began  to  descend  into  the  street,  and  go 
and  peep  in  at  the  school  door  and  the  wheelright’s  shop, 
and  look  out  for  something  to  while  away  the  time.  Now 
the  wheelwright  was  a choleric  man,  and,  one  fine  after- 
noon, returning  from  a short  absence,  found  Tom  occupied 
with  one  of  his  pet  adzes,  the  edge  of  which  was  fast  van- 
ishing under  our  hero’s  care.  A speedy  flight  saved  Tom 
from  all  but  one  sound  cuff  on  the  ears,  but  he  resented 
this  unjustifiable  interruption  of  his  first  essays  at  carpen- 
tering, and  still  more  the  further  proceedings  of  the  wheel- 
wiight,  who  cut  a switch  and  hung  it  over  the  door  of  his 
workshop,  threatening  to  use  it  upon  Tom  if  he  came  with- 
in twenty  yards  of  his  gate.  So  Tom,  to  retaliate,  com- 
menced a war  upon  the  swallows  who  dwelt  under  the 
wheelright’s  eaves,  whom  he  harassed  with  sticks  and 
stones,  and  being  lleeter  of  foot  than  his  enemy,  escaped 
all  punishment  and  kept  him  in  perpetual  anger. , More- 
over his  presence  about  the  school  door  began  to  incense 
the  master,  as  the  boys  in  that  neighborhood  neglected 
their  lessons  in  consequence;  and  more  than  once  he 
issued  into  the  porch,  rod  in  hand,  just  as  Tom  beat  a hasty 
retreat.  And  he  and  the  wheelwright,  laying  their  heads 
together,  resolved  to  acquaint  the  Squire  with  Tom’s  after- 
noon occupations;  but,  in  order  to  do  it  with  effect,  deter- 
mined to  take  him  captive  and  lead  him  away  to  judgment 
fresh  from  his  evil  doings.  This  they  would  have  found 
some  difficulty  in  doing,  had  Tom  continued  the  war  single- 
handed,  or  rather  single-footed,  for  he  would  have  taken 
to  the  deepest  part  of  Pebbly  Brook  to  escape  them;  but, 
like  other  active  powers,  he  was  ruined  by  his  alliances. 
Poor  Jacob  Doodle-calf  could  not  go  to  school  with  the 
other  boys,  and  one  fine  afternoon  about  three  o’clock  (the 
school  broke  up  at  four),  Tom  found  him  ambling  about 
the  street,  and  presse  1 him  into  a visit  to  the  school  porch. 
Jacob,  always  ready  to  do  what  he  was  asked,  consented, 
and  the  two  stole  down  to  the  school  together.  Tom  first 
reconnoitered  the  wheelwright’s  shop,  and  seeing  no  signs  of 
activity,  thought  all  safe  in  that  quarter,  and  ordered  at 


SUNDRY  WARS  AND  ALLIANCES . 


53 


once  an  advance  of  all  his  troops  upon  the  school  porch. 
The  door  of  the  school  was  ajar,  and  the  boys  seared  on 
the  nearest  bench  at  once  recognized  and  opened  a corre- 
spondence with  the  invaders.  Tom,  waxing  bold,  kept 
putting  his  head  into  the  school  and  making  faces  at  the 
master  when  his  back  was  turned.  Poor  Jacob,  not  in  the 
least  comprehending  the  situation,  and  in  high  glee  at  find- 
ing himself  so  near  the  school,  which  he  had  never  been 
allowed  to  enter,  suddenly,  in  a fit  of  enthusiasm,  pushed 
by  Tom,  and  ambling  three  steps  into  the  school,  stood 
there,  looking  round  him  and  nodding  with  a self-approv- 
ing smile.  The  master,  who  was  stooping  over  a boy’s 
slate,  with  his  back  to  the  door,  became  aware  of  some- 
thing unusual,  and  turned  quickly  round.  Tom  rushed  at 
Jacob,  and  began  dragging  him  back  by  his  smock-frock, 
and  the  master  made  at  them,  scattering  forms  and  boys  in 
his  career.  Even  now  they  might  have  escaped,  but  that 
in  the  porch,  barring  retreat,  appeared  the  crafty  wheel- 
wright, who  had  been  watching  all  their  proceedings.  So 
they  were  seized,  the  school  dismissed,  and  Tom  and  Jacob 
led  away  to  Squire  Brown  as  lawful  prize,  the  boys  follow- 
ing to  the  gate  in  groups,  and  speculating  on  the  result. 

The  Squire  was  very  angry  at  first,  but  the  interview,  by 
Tom’s  pleading,  ended  in  a compromise.  Tom  was  not  to 
go  near  the  school  till  three  o’clock,  and  only  then  if  he 
had  done  his  own  lessons  well,  in  which  case  lie  was  to  be 
the  bearer  of  a note  to  the  master  from  Squire  Brown, 
and  the  master  agreed  in  such  case  to  release  ten  or  twelve 
of  the  best  boys  an  hour  before  the  time  of  breaking  up, 
to  go  off  and  play  in  the  close.  The  wheelwright’s  adzes 
and  swallows  were  to  be  forever  respected  ; and  that  hero 
and  the  master  withdrew  to  the  servants’  hall,  to  drink  the 
Squire’s  health,  well  satisfied  with  their  day’s  work. 

The  second  act  of  Tom’s  life  may  now  be  said  to  have 
begun.  The  war  of  independence  had  been  over  for  some 
time  : none  of  the  women  now,  not  even  his  mother's  maid, 
dared  offer  to  help  him  in  dressing  or  washing.  Between 
ourselves,  he  had  often  at  first  to  run  to  Benjy  in  an  un- 
finished state  of  toilet ; Charity  and  the  rest  of  them 
seemed  to  take  a delight  in  putting  impossible  buttons  and 
ties  in  the  middle  of  his  back : but  de  would  have  gone 
without  nether  integuments  altogether  sooner  than  have 


54 


TOM  BROWN  ’ 5 SCHOOL-DA  YS. 


had  recourse  to  female  valeting.  He  had  a room  to  him- 
self, and  his  father  gave  him  sixpence  a week  pocket- 
money.  All  this  he  had  achieved  by  Benjy’s  advice  and 
assistance.  But  now  he  had  conquered  another  step  in 
life,  the  step  which  all  real  boys  so  long  to  make ; he  had 
got  among  his  equals  in  age  and  strength,  and  could  meas- 
ure himself  with  other  boys  ; he  lived  with  those  whose 
pursuits  and  wishes  and  ways  were  the  same  in  kind  as  his 
own. 

The  little  governess  who  had  lately  been  installed  in  the 
house  found  her  work  grow  wondrously  easy,  for  Tom 
slaved  at  his  lessons  in  order  to  make  sure  of  his  note  to 
the  schoolmaster.  So  there  were  very  few  days  in  the 
week  in  which  Tom  and  the  village  boys  were  not  playing 
in  their  close  by  three  o’clock.  Prisoner’s  base,  rounders, 
high-cock-a-lorum,  cricket,  football,  he  was  soon  initiated 
into  the  delights  of  them  all;  and  though  most  of  the  boys 
were  older  than  himself,  he  managed  to  hold  his  own  very 
well.  He  was  naturally  active  and  strong,  and  quick  of 
eye  and  hand,  and  had  the  advantage  of  light  shoes  and 
well-fitting  dress,  so  that  in  a short  time  he  could  run  and 
jump  and  climb  with  any  of  them. 

They  generally  finished  their  regular  games  half  an 
hour  or  so  before  tea-time,  and  then  began  trials  of  skill 
and  strength  in  many  ways.  Some  of  them  would  catch 
the  Shetland  pony  who  was  turned  out  in  the  field,  and 
get  two  or  three  together  on  his  back,  and  the  little  rogue, 
enjoying  the  fun,  would  gallop  off  for  fifty  yards,  and  then 
turn  round,  or  stop  short  and  shoot  them  on  to  the  turf, 
and  then  graze  quietly  on  till  he  felt  another  load  ; others 
played  peg-top  or  marbles,  while  a few  of  the  bigger  ones 
stood  up  for  a bout  at  wrestling.  Tom  at  first  only  looked 
on  at  this  pastime,  but  it  had  peculiar  attractions  for  him, 
and  he  could  not  long  keep  out  of  it.  Elbow  and  collar 
wrestling  as  practiced  in  the  western  counties  was,  next 
to  back-swording,  the  way  to  fame  for  the  youth  of  the 
Yale;  and  all  the  boys  knew  the  rules  of  it,  and  were 
more  or  less  expert.  But  Job  Rudkin  and  Harry  Win- 
burn  were  the  stars,  the  former  stiff  and  sturdy,  with  legs 
like  small  towers,  the  latter  pliant  as  india-rubber,  and 
quick  as  lightning.  Day  after  day  they  stood  foot  to  foot, 
and  offered  first  one  hand  and  then  the  other,  and  grappled 


SUNDRY  WARS  AND  ALLIANCES. 


55 


and  closed  and  swayed  and  strained,  till  a well-aimed  crook 
of  the  heel  or  thrust  of  the  loin  took  effect,  and  a fair 
back-fall  ended  the  matter.  And  Tom  watched  with  all 
his  eyes,  and  first  challenged  one  of  the  less  scientific,  and 
threw  him ; and  so  one  by  one  wrestled  his  way  up  to  the 
leaders. 

Then  indeed  for  months  he  had  a poor  time  of  it ; it  was 
not  long  indeed  before  he  could  manage  to  keep  his  legs 
against  Job,  for  that  hero  was  slow  of  offense,  and  gained 
his  victories  chiefly  by  allowing  others  to  throw  themselves 
against  his  immovable  legs  and  loins.  But  Harry  Win- 
burn  was  undeniably  his  master ; from  the  first  clutch  of 
hands  when  they  stood  up,  down  to  the  last  trip  which 
sent  him  on  his  back  on  the  turf,  lie  felt  that  Harry  knew 
more  and  could  do  more  than  he.  Luckily,  Harry’s  bright 
unconsciousness,  and  Tom’s  natural  good  temper  kept 
them  from  ever  quarreling ; and  so  Tom  worked  on  and 
on,  and  trod  more  and  more  nearly  on  Harry’s  heels,  and 
at  last  mastered  all  the  dodges  and  falls  except  one.  This 
one  was  Harry’s  own  particular  invention  and  pet ; he 
scarcely  ever  used  it  except  when  hard  pressed,  but  then 
out  it  came,  and  as  sure  as  it  did,  over  went  poor  Torn. 
He  thought  about  that  fall  at  his  meals,  in  his  walks,  when 
he  lay  awake  in  bed,  in  his  dreams — but  all  to  no  pur- 
pose ; until  Harry  one  day  in  his  open  way  suggested  to 
him  how  he  thought  it  should  be  met,  and  in  a week  from 
that  time  the  boys  were  equal,  save  only  the  slight  differ- 
ence of  strength  in  Harry’s  favor  which  some  extra  ten 
months  of  age  gave.  Tom  had  often  afterward  reason  to 
be  thankful  for  that  early  drilling,  and  above  all  for  hav- 
ing mastered  Harry  Winburn’s  fall. 

Besides  their  home  games,  on  Saturdays  the  boys  would 
wander  all  over  the  neighborhood  ; sometimes  to  the 
downs,  or  up  to  the  camp,  where  they  cut  their  initials  out 
in  the  springy  turf,  and  watched  the  hawks  soaring,  and 
the  “peert”  bird,  as  Harry  Winburn  called  the  gray 
plover,  gorgeous  in  his  wedding  feathers  ; and  so  home, 
racing  down  the  Manger  with  many  a roll  among  the 
thistles,  or  through  Uffington-wood  to  watch  the  fox  cubs 
playing  in  the  green  rides ; sometimes  to  Rosy  Brook, 
to  cut  long  whispering  reeds  which  grew  there  to  make 
pan-pipes  of;  sometimes  to  Moor  Mills,  where  was  a piece 


56 


TOM  BROWJS’S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


of  old  forest  land,  with  short  browsed  turf  and  tufted 
brambly  thickets  stretching  under  the  oaks,  among  which 
rumor  declared  that  a raven,  last  of  his  race,  still  lingered ; 
or  to  the  sand-hills  in  vain  quest  of  rabbits;  and  birds-nest- 
ing,  in  the  season,  anywhere  and  everywhere. 

The  few  neighbors  of  the  Squire’s  own  rank  every  now 
and  then  would  shrug  their  shoulders  as  they  drove  or 
rode  by  a party  of  boys  with  Tom  in  the  middle,  carrying 
along  bulrushes  or  whispering  reeds,  or  great  bundles  of 
Cowslip  and  meadow-sweet,  or  young  starlings  or  magpies, 
or  other  spoil  of  wood,  brook,  or  meadow  ; and  Lawyer 
Red-tape  might  mutter  to  Squire  Straight  back  at  the  Board 
that  no  good  would  come  of  the  3-011  ng  Browns,  if  they 
were  let  run  wild  with  all  the  dirty  village  boys,  whom  the 
best  farmers’  sons  even  would  not  play  with.  And  the 
Squire  might  reply  with  a shake  of  his  head  that  his  sons 
only  mixed  with  their  equals,  and  never  went  into  the 
village  without  the  governess  or  a footman.  But,  luckily, 
Squire  Brown  was  full  as  stiff-backed  as  his  neighbors, 
and  so  went  on  his  own  way  ; and  Tom  and  his  younger 
brothers,  as  they  grew  up,  went  on  playing  with  the  village 
boys,  without  the  idea  of  equality  or  inequality  (except  in 
wrestling,  running,  and  climbing)  ever  entering  their  heads, 
as  it  doesn’t  till  it’s  put  there  by  Jack  Nastys  or  fine  ladies’ 
maids. 

I don’t  mean  to  say  it  would  be  the  case  in  all  villages, 
but  it  certainly  was  so  in  this  one;  the  village  boys  were 
lull  as  manly  and  honest,  and  certainly  purer  than  those 
i 1 a higher  rank  ; and  Tom  got  more  harm  from  his  equals 
in  his  first  fortnight  at  a private  school,  where  he  went 
when  he  was  nine  3-ears  old,  than  he  had  from  his  village 
friends  from  the  day  he  left  Charity’s  apron-strings. 

Great  was  the  grief  among  the  village  school-boys  when 
Tom  drove  off  with  the  Squire,  one  August  morning,  to 
meet  the  coach  on  his  way  to  school.  Each  of  them  had 
given  him  some  little  present  of  the  best  that  he  had,  and 
his  small  private  box  was  full  of  peg-tops,  white  marbles 
(called  “ alley-taws”  in  the  Vale),  screws,  birds’-eggs, 
whip-cord,  jews-harps,  and  other  miscellaneous  boys’  wealth. 
Poor  Jacob  Doodle-calf,  in  floods  of  tears,  had  pressed  upon 
him  with  spluttering  earnestness  his  lame  pet  hedgehog 
(he  had  always  some  poor  broken-down  beast  or  bird  by 


SUNDRY  WARS  AND  ALLIANCES . 


57 


him)  ; but  this  Tom  had  been  obliged  to  refuse  by  the 
Squire’s  order.  He  had  given  them  all  a great  tea  under 
the  big  elm  in  their  playground,  for  which  Madam  Brown 
had  supplied  the  biggest  cake  ever  seen  in  our  village  ; and 
Tom  was  really  as  sorry  to  leave  them  as  they  to  lose  him, 
but  his  sorrow  was  not  unmixed  with  the  pride  and  ex- 
citement of  making  a new  step  in  life. 

And  this  feeling  carried  him  through  his  first  parting 
with  his  mother  better  than  could  have  been  expected. 
Their  love  was  as  fair  and  whole  as  human  love  can  be,' 
perfect  self-sacrifice  on  the  one  side,  meeting  a young  and 
true  heart  on  the  other.  It  is  not  within  the  scope  of  my 
book,  however,  to  speak  of  family  relations,  or  I should 
have  much  to  say  on  the  subject  of  English  mothers, — ay, 
and  of  English  fathers,  and  sisters,  and  brothers  too. 

Neither  have  I room  to  speak  of  our  private  schools ; 
what  I have  to  say  is  about  public  schools,  those  much- 
abused  and  much-belauded  institutions  peculiar  to  Eng- 
land. So  we  must  hurry  through  Master  Tom’s  year  at  a 
private  school  as  fast  as  we  can. 

It  was  a fair  average  specimen,  kept  by  a gentleman, 
with  another  gentleman  as  second  master ; but  it  was 
little  enough  of  the  real  work  they  did — merely  coming 
into  school  when  lessons  were  prepared  and  all  ready  to  be 
heard.  The  whole  discipline  of  the  school  out  of  lesson 
hours  was  in  the  hands  of  the  two  ushers,  one  of  whom 
was  always  with  the  boys  in  their  playground,  in  the 
school,  at  meals — in  fact,  at  all  times  and  everywhere,  till 
they  were  fairly  in  bed  at  night. 

Now  the  theory  of  private  schools  is  (or  was)  constant 
supervision  out  of  school ; therein  differing  fundamentally 
from  that  of  public  schools. 

It  may  be  right  or  wrong  ; but  if  right,  this  supervision 
surely  ought  to  be  the  especial  work  of  the  headmaster, 
the  responsible  person.  The  object  of  all  schools  is  not 
to  ram  Latin  and  Greek  into  boys  but  to  make  them  good 
English  boys,  good  future  citizens  ; and  by  far  the  most 
important  part  of  that  work  must  be  done,  or  not  done, 
out  of  school  hours.  To  leave  it,  therefore,  in  the  hands 
of  inferior  men,  is  just  giving  up  the  highest  and  hardest 
part  of  the  work  of  education.  Were  I a private  school- 
master, I should  say,  let  who  will  hear  the  boys  their  les- 


58 


TOM  BROWN’S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


sons,  but  let  me  live  with  them  when  they  are  at  play  and 

rest. 

The  two  ushers  at  Tom’s  first  school  were  not  gentle- 
men, and  very  poorly  educated,  and  were  only  driving 
their  poor  trade  of  usher  to  get  such  living  as  they  could 
out  of  it.  They  were  not  bad  men,  but  had  little  heart 
for  their  work,  and  of  course  were  bent  on  making  it  as 
easy  as  possible.  One  of  the  methods  by  which  they  en- 
deavored to  accomplish  this  was  by  encouraging  tale-bear- 
ing, which  had  become  a frightfully  common  vice  in  the 
school  in  consequence,  and  had  sapped  all  the  foundations 
of  school  morality.  Another  was,  by  favoring  grossly  the 
biggest  boys,  who  alone  could  have  given  them  much  trou- 
ble ; whereby  those  young  gentlemen  became  most  abomi- 
nable tyrants,  oppressing  the  little  boys  in  all  the  small, 
mean  ways  which  prevail  in  private  schools. 

Poor  little  Tom  was  made  dreadfully  unhappy  in  his 
first  week  by  a catastrophe  which  happened  to  his  first 
letter  home.  With  huge  labor  he  had,  on  the  very  even- 
ing of  his  arrival,  managed  to  fill  two  sides  of  a sheet  of 
letter-paper  with  assurances  of  his  love  for  dear  mamma, 
his  happiness  at  school,  and  his  resolves  to  do  all  she 
would  wish.  This  missive,  with  the  help  of  the  boy  who 
sat  at  the  desk  next  him,  also  a new  arrival,  he  managed 
to  fold  successfully  ; but  this  done,  they  were  sadly  put  to 
it  h>r  means  of  sealing.  Envelopes  were  then  unknown, 
they  had  no  wax,  and  dared  not  disturb  the  stillness  of 
the  evening  school-room  by  getting  up  and  going  to  ask 
the  usher  for  some.  At  length  Tom’s  friend,  being  of  an 
ingenious  turn  of  mind,  suggested  sealing  with  ink,  and 
the  letter  was  accordingly  stuck  down  with  the  blot  of 
ink,  and  duly  handed  by  Tom,  on  his  way  to  bed,  to  the 
housekeeper  to  be  posted.  It  was  not  till  four  days  after- 
ward, that  that  good  dame  sent  for  him,  and  produced  the 
precious  letter,  and  some  wax,  saying,  u Oh,  Master  Brown, 
I forgot  to  tell  you  before,  but  your  letter  isn’t  sealed.” 
Poor  Tom  took  the  wax  in  silence  and  sealed  his  letter, 
with  a huge  lump  rising  in  his  throat  during  the  process, 
and  then  ran  away  to  a quiet  corner  of  the  playground 
and  burst  into  an  agony  of  tears.  The  idea  of  his  mother 
waiting  day  after  day  for  the  letter  he  had  promised  her 
at  once,  and  perhaps  thinking  him  forgetful  of  her,  when 


SUNDRY  WARS  AND  ALLIANCES . 59 

he  had  done  all  in  his  power  to  make  good  his  promise 
was  as  bitter  a grief  as  any  which  he  had  to  undergo  for 
many  a long  year.  His  wrath  then  was  proportionately 
violent  when  he  was  aware  of  two  boys,  who  stopped 
close  by  him,  and  one  of  whom,  a fat  gaby  of  a fellow, 
pointed  at  him  and  called  him  “Young  mammy-sick!” 
W hereupon  Tom  arose,  and  giving  vent  thus  to  his  grief 
and  shame  and  rage,  smote  his  derider  on  the  nose,  and 
made  it  bleed  which  sent  that  young  worthy  howling  to 
the  usher,  who  reported  Tom  for  violent  and  unprovoked 
assault  and  battery.  Hitting  in  the  face  was  a felony  pun- 
ishable with  flogging,  other  hitting  only  a misdemeanor — a 
distinction  not  altogether  clear  in  principle.  Tom,  how- 
ever,  escarped  the  penalty  by  pleading  “ primum  tempus 
and  having  written  a second  letter  to  his  mother,  inclosing 
some  forget-me-nots,  which  he  picked  on  their  first  halt 
holiday  walk,  felt  quite  happy  again,  and  began  to  enjoy 
vastly  a good  deal  of  his  new  life.  ^ 

These^lialf-holi day  walks  were  the  great  events  of  the 
Aveek.  The  whole  fifty  boys  started  after  dinner  with  one 
ot  the  ushers  for  Hazeldown,  which  was  distant  some  mile 
or  so  from  the  school.  Hazeldown  measured  some  three 
miles  around,  and  in  the  neighborhood  were  several  woods 
tull  of  all  manner  of  birds  and  butterflies.  The  usher 
walked  slowly  round  the  down  with  such  boys  as  liked  to 
accompany  him  ; the  rest  scattered  in  all  directions,  being 
only  bound  to  appear  again  when  the  usher  had  completed 
his  round,  and  accompany  him  home.  They  were  forbid- 
den, however,  to  go  anywhere,  except  on  the  down  and 

W°Kd1i  >the  ViUT  beiu"  especially  prohibited, 
where  huge  bulls  -eyes  and  unctuous  toffv  might  be  pro- 
cured m exchange  for  coin  of  the  realm.  ^ 

Various  were  the  amusements  to  which  the  boys  then  be- 
took  themselves  At  the  entrance  of  the  down  there  was 
a steep  hillock,  like  the  barrows  of  Tom’s  own  downs.  This 
mound  was  the  weekly  scene  of  terrific  combats,  at  a game 
called  by  the  queer  name  of  “ mud-patties.”  The  boys  who 
played  divided  into  sides  under  different  leaders,  and  one 
side  occupied  the  mound.  Then,  all  parties  having  pro- 

hrS  thiTlveS  ,wi.th  many  sods  of  turf,  cut  with  their 
bread-and-cheese  knives,  the  side  which  remained  at  the 
tom  proceeded  to  assault  the  mound,  advancing  upon 


60 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS . 


all  sides  u::der  cover  of  a heavy  fire  of  turfs,  and  then 
struggling  for  victory  with  the  occupants,  which  was  theirs 
as  soon  as  they  could,  even  for  a moment,  clear  the  summit, 
when  they  in  turn  became  the  besieged.  It  was  a good, 
rough,  dirty  game,  and  of  great  use  in  counteracting 
the  sneaking  tendencies  of  the  school.  Then  others  of  the 
boys  spread  over  the  downs,  looking  for  the  holes  of  hum- 
ble-bees and  mice,  which  they  dug  up  without  mercy,  often 
(I  regret  to  say)  killing  and  skinning  the  unlucky  mice, 
and  (I  do  not  regret  to  say)  getting  well  stung  by  tiie 
humble-bees.  Others  went  after  butterflies  and  birds’-eggs 
in  their  seasons ; and  Tom  found  on  Hazeldown,  for  the 
first  time,  the  beautiful  little  blue  butterfly  with  golden 
spots  on  his  wings,  which  he  had  never  seen  on  his  own 
downs,  and  dug  out  his  first  sand-martin’s-nest.  This  latter 
achievement  resulted  in  a flogging,  for  the  sand-martins 
built  in  a high  bank  close  to  the  village,  consequently  out 
of  bounds ; but  one  of  the  bolder  spirits  of  the  school,  who 
never  could  be  happy  unless  he  was  doing  something  to 
wdiich  risk  attached,  easily  persuaded  Tom  to  break  bounds 
and  visit  the  martin’s  bank.  From  whence,  it  being  only 
a step  to  the  toffy-shop,  what  could  be  more  simple  than  to 
go  on  there  and  fill  their  pockets  ? or  what  more  certain 
than  that  on  their  return,  a distribution  of  treasure  having 
been  made,  the  usher  should  shortly  detect  the  forbidden 
smell  of  bulls’-eyes,  and,  a search  ensuing,  discover  the 
state  of  the  breeches  pockets  of  Tom  and  his  ally? 

This  ally  of  Toni’s  was  indeed  a desperate  hero  in  the 
sight  of  the  boys,  and  feared  as  one  who  dealt  in  magic,  or 
something  approaching  thereto.  Which  reputation  came 
to  him  in  this  wise.  The  boys  went  to  bed  at  eight,  and  of 
course  consequently  lay  awake  in  the  dark  for  an  hour  or 
two,  telling  ghost-stories  by  turns.  One  night  when  it 
came  to  his  turn,  and  he  had  dried  up  their  souls  by  his 
story,  he  suddenly  declared  that  he  would  make  a fiery 
hand  appear  on  the  door  ; and  to  the  astonishment  and  ter- 
ror of  the  boys  in  his  room,  a hand,  or  something  like  it,  in 
pale  light,  did  then  and  there  appear.  The  fame  of  this 
exploit  having  spread  to  the  other  rooms,  and  being  dis- 
credited there,  the  young  necromancer  declared  that  the 
same  wonder  would  appear  in  all  the  rooms  in  turn,  which 
it  accordingly  did ; and  the  whole  circumstances  having 


SUNDRY  WARS  AND  ALLIANCES. 


61 


been  privately  reported  to  one  of  the  ushers  as  usual,  that 
functionary,  after  listening  about  at  the  doors  of  the  rooms, 
by  a sudden  descent  caught  the  performer  in  his  night-shirt 
with  a box  of  phosphorus  in  his  guilty  hand.  Lucifer- 
matclies  and  all  the  present  facilities  for  getting  acquaint- 
ed with  fire  were  then  unknown ; the  very  name  of  phos- 
phorus had  something  diabolical  in  it  to  the  boy-mind;  so 
Tom’s  ally,  at  the  cost  of  a sound  flogging,  earned  what 
many  older  folk  covet  much — the  very  decided  fear  of  most 
of  his  companions. 

He  was  a remarkable  boy,  and  by  no  means  a bad  one. 
Tom  stuck  to  him  till  he  left,  and  got  into  many  scrapes 
by  so  doing.  But  he  was  the  great  opponent  of  the  tale- 
bearing habits  of  the  school,  and  the  open  enemy  of  the 
ushers  ; and  so  worthy  of  all  support. 

Tom  imbibed  a fair  amount  of  Latin  and  Greek  at  the 
school,  but  somehow  on  the  whole  it  didn’t  suit  him,  or  he 
it,  and  in  the  holidays  he  was  constantly  working  the 
Squire  to  send  him  at  once  to  a public  school.  Great  was 
his  joy  then,  when  in  the  middle  of  his  third  half-year,  in 
October  188-,  a fever  broke  out  in  the  village,  and  the 
master  having  himself  slightly  sickened  of  it,  the  whole  of 
the  boys  were  sent  off  at  a day’s  notice  to  their  respective 
homes. 

The  Squire  was  not  quite  so  pleased  as  Master  Tom  to 
see  that  young  gentleman’s  brown  merry  face  appear  at 
home,  some  two  months  before  the  proper  time,  for  Christ- 
mas holidays ; and  so  after  putting  on  his  thinking  cap,  he 
retired  to  his  study  and  wrote  several  letters,  the  result  of 
which  was  that  one  morning  at  the  breakfast-table,  about 
a fortnight  after  Tom’s  return,  he  addressed  his  wife  with  : 
My  dear,  I have  arranged  that  Tom  shall  go  to  Rugby  at 
once,  for  the  last  six  weeks  of  this  half  year,  instead  of 
wasting  them  in  riding  and  loitering  about  home.  It  is 
very  kind  of  the  Doctor  to  allow  it.  Will  you  see  that  his 
things  are  all  ready  by  Friday,  when  I shall  take  him  up 
to  town,  and  send  him  down  the  next  day  by  himself.” 

Mrs.  Brown  was  prepared  for  the  announcement,  and 
merely  suggested  a doubt  whether  Tom  were  yet  old 
enough  to  travel  by  himself.  However,  finding  both  father 
and  son  against  her  on  this  point,  she  gave  in  like  a wise 
woman,  and  proceeded  to  prepare  Tom’s  kit  for  his  launch 
into  a public  school. 


*2 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-LA  YS. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  STAGE-COACH. 

“ Let  the  steam-pot  hiss  till  it’s  hot, 

Give  me  the  speed  of  the  Tantivy  trot. 

Coaching  Song  by  li . E.  E*  Warburton , Esq. 

“ Now,  sir,  time  to  get  up,  if  you  please.  Tally-ho  coach 
for  Leicester  ’ll  be  round  in  half  aa  hour,  and  don’t  wait 
for  nobody.”  So  spake  the  Boots  of  the  Peacock  Inn,  Is- 
lington, at  half-past  two  o’clock  on  the  morning  of  a day  in 
the  early  part  of  November,  183-,  giving  Tom  at  the  same 
time  a shake  by  the  shoulder,  and  then  putting  down  a 
candle  and  carrying  off  his  shoes  to  clean. 

Tom  and  his  lecher  had  arrived  in  town  from  Berkshire 
the  day  before,  and  finding,  on  inquiry,  that  the  Birming- 
ham coaches  which  ran  from  the  city  did  not  pass  through 
Rugby,  but  deposited  their  passengers  at  Dunchurch,  a 
village  three  miles  distant  on  the  main  road — where  said 
passengers  had  to  wait  for  the  Oxforl  and  Leicester  coach 
in  the  evening,  or  to  take  a post-chaise — had  resolved  that 
Tom  should  travel  down  by  the  Tally-ho,  which  diverged 
from  the  main  road  and  passed  through  Rugby  itself.  And 
as  the  Tally-ho  was  an  early  coach,  they  had  driven  out  to 
the  Peacock  to  be  on  the  road. 

Tom  had  never  been  in  London,  and  would  have  liked 
to  have  stopped  at  the  Belle  Sauvage,  where  they  had  been 
put  down  b}^  the  Star,  just  at  dusk,  that  he  might  have 
gone  roving  about  those  endless,  nv^sterious,  gas-lit  streets, 
which,  with  their  glare  and  hum  and  moving  crowds,  ex- 
cited him  so  that  he  couldn’t  talk  even.  But  as  soon  as  he 
found  that  the  Peacock  arrangement  would  get  him  to 
Rugby  by  twelve  o’clock  in  the  day,  whereas  otherwise  he 
wouldn’t  be  there  till  the  evening,  all  other  plans  melted 
away;  his  one  absorbing  aim  being  to  become  a public 
schoolboy  as  fast  as  possible,  and  six  hours  sooner  or  later 
seeming  to  him  of  the  most  alarming  importance. 

Tom  and  his  father  had  alighted  at  the  Peacock  at  about 
seven  in  the  evening,  and  having  heard  witli  unfeigned  joy 
the  paternal  order  at  the  bar,  of  steaks  and  oyster  sauce 


THE  STAGE-COACH. 


63 


for  supper  in  half  an  hour,  and  seen  his  father  seated  cozily 
by  the  bright  fire  in  the  coffee-room  with  the  paper  in  his 
hand — Tom  had  run  out  to  see  about  him,  had  wondered 
at  all  the  vehicles  passing  and  repassing,  and  had  frater- 
nized with  the  boots  and  hostler,  from  whom  he  ascertained 
that  the  Tally-ho  was  a tip-top  goer,  ten  miles  an  hour  in- 
cluding stoppages,  and  so  punctual  that  all  the  road  set 
their  clocks  by  her. 

Then  being  summoned  to  supper  he  had  regaled  himself 
in  one  of  the  bright  little  boxes  of  the  Peacock  coffee- 
room  on  the  beef-steak  and  unlimited  oyster  sauce  and 
brown  stout  (tasted  then  for  the  first  time — a day  to  be 
marked  forever  by  Tom  with  a white  stone)  ; had  at  first 
attended  to  the  excellent  advice  which  his  father  was 
bestowing  on  him  from  over  his  glass  of  steaming  brandy 
and  water,  and  then  begun  nodding  from  the  united  effects 
of  the  stout,  the  fire,  and  the  lecture.  Till  the  Squire, 
observing  Tom’s  state  and  remembering  that  it  was  nearly 
nine  o’clock,  and  that  the  Tally-ho  left  at  three,  sent  the 
little  fellow  off  to  the  chambermaid,  with  a shake  of  the 
hand  (Tom  having  stipulated  in  the  morning  before  start- 
ing that  kissing  should  now  cease  between  them)  and  a 
few  parting  words. 

“And  now,  Tom,  my  boy,”  said  the  Squire,  “remember 
you  are  going,  at  your  own  earnest  request,  to  be  chucked 
into  this  great  school,  like  a young  bear  with  all  your 
troubles  before  you — earlier  than  we  should  have  sent  you 
perhaps.  If  schools  are  what  they  were  in  my  time, 
you’ll  see  a great  many  cruel  blackguard  things  done,  and 
hear  a deal  of  foul  bad  talk.  But  never  fear.  You  tell 
the  truth,  keep  a brave  and  kind  heart,  and  never  listen 
to  or  say  anything  you  wouldn’t  have  your  mother  and 
sister  hear,  and  you’ll  never  feel  ashamed  to  come  home, 
or  we  to  see  you.” 

The  allusion  to  his  mother  made  Tom  feel  rather  chokey, 
and  he  would  have  liked  to  have  hugged  his  father  well, 
if  it  hadn’t  been  for  the  recent  stipulation. 

As  it  was,  he  only  squeezed  his  father’s  hand,  and  looked 
bravely  up  and  said,  “ I’ll  try,  father.” 

“ I know  you  will,  my  boy.  Is  your  money  all  safe  ? ” 

“Yes,”  said  Tom,  diving  into  one  pocket  to  make  sure. 

“ And  your  keys  ? ” said  the  Squire. 


64 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-BAYS. 


“ All  right,”  said  Tom,  diving  into  the  other  pocket. 

“ Well  then,  good-night.  God  bless  you  ! I’ll  tell  Boots 
to  call  you,  and  be  up  to  see  you  off.” 

Tom  was  carried  off  by  the  chambermaid  in  a brown 
study,  from  which  he  was  roused  in  a clean  little  attic  by 
that  buxom  person  calling  him  a little  darling,  and  kissing 
him  as  she  left  the  room,  which  indignity  he  was  too  much 
surprised  to  resent.  And  still  thinking  of  his  father’s  last 
words,  and  the  look  with  which  they  were  spoken,  he 
knelt  down  and  prayed,  that,  come  what  might,  he  might 
never  bring  shame  or  sorrow  on  the  dear  folk  at  home. 

Indeed,  the  Squire’s  last  words  deserved  to  have  their 
effect,  for  they  had  been  the  result  of  much  anxious 
thought.  All  the  way  up  to  London  he  had  pondered 
what  he  should  say  to  Tom  by  way  of  parting  advice, 
something  that  the  boy  could  keep  in  his  head  ready  for 
use.  By  way  of  assisting  meditation,  he  had  even  gone 
the  length  of  taking  out  his  flint  and  steel  and  tinder,  and 
hammering  away  for  a quarter  of  an  hour  till  he  had 
manufactured  a light  for  a long  Trichinopoli  cheroot, 
which  he  silently  puffed ; to  the  no  small  wonder  of 
Coachee,  who  was  an  old  friend,  and  an  institution  on  the 
Bath  road ; and  who  always  expected  a talk  on  the 
prospects  and  doings,  agricultural  and  social,  of  the  whole 
county  when  he  carried  the  Squire. 

To  condense  the  Squire’s  meditation,  it  was  somewhat 
as  follows : “ I won’t  tell  him  to  read  his  Bible  and  love 
and  serve  God ; if  he  don’t  do  that  for  his  mother’s  sake 
and  teaching,  he  won’t  for  mine.  Shall  I go  into  the  sort 
of  temptations  he’ll  meet  with?  No,  I can’t  do  that. 
Never  do  for  an  old  fellow  to  go  into  such  things  with  a 
boy.  He  won’t  understand  me.  Do  him  more  harm  than 
good,  ten  to  one.  Shall  I tell  him  to  mind  his  work,  and 
say  he’s  sent  to  school  to  make  himself  a good  scholar  ? 
Well,  but  he  isn’t  sent  to  school  for  that — at  any  rate  not 
for  that  mainly.  I don’t  care  a straw  for  Greek  particles, 
or  the  digamma,  no  moie  does  his  mother.  What  is  he 
sent  to  school  for?  Well,  partly  because  he  wanted  so  to 
go.  If  he’ll  only  turn  out  a brave,  helpful,  truth-telling 
Englishman,  and  a gentleman,  and  a Christian,  that’s  all  I 
want,”  thought  the  Squire;  and  upon  this  view  of  the 
case  framed  his  last  words  of  advice  to  Tom,  which  were 
well  enough  suited  to  his  purpose. 


THE  STAGE-COACTL 


65 


For  they  were  Tom’s  first  thoughts  as  he  tumbled  out  of 
bed  at  the  summons  of  Boots,  and  proceeded  rapidly  to 
wash  and  dress  himself.  At  ten  minutes  to  three  he  was 
down  in  the  coffee-room  in  his  stockings,  carrying  his  hat- 
box,  coat,  and  comforter  in  his  hand  ; and  there  he  found 
his  father  nursing  a bright  fire  and  a cup  of  hot  coffee  and 
a hard  biscuit  on  the  table. 

u Now  then,  Tom,  give  us  your  things  here,  and  drink 
this  ; there’s  nothing  like  starting  warm,  old  fellow.” 

Tom  addressed  himself  to  the  coffee,  and  prattled  away 
while  he  worked  himself  into  his  shoes  and  his  great-coat, 
well  warmed  through  ; a Petersham  coat  with  velvet  collar, 
made  tight,  after  the  abominable  fashion  of  those  days. 
And  just  as  he  is  swallowing  his  last  mouthful,  winding 
his  comforter  round  his  throat,  and  tucking  the  ends  into 
the  breast  of  his  coat,  the  horn  sounds,  Boots  looks  in  and 
says,  44  Tally-ho,  sir ; ” and  they  hear  the  ring  and  the 
rattle  of  the  four  fast  trotters  and  the  town-made  drag,  as 
it  dashes  up  to  the  Peacock. 

44  Anything  for  us,  Bob  ? ” says  the  burly  guard,  drop- 
ping down  from  behind,  and  slapping  himself  across  the 
chest. 

44  Young  gentPm’n,  Rugby ; three  parcels,  Leicester ; 
hamper  o’  game,  Rugby,”  answers  hostler. 

44  Tell  young  gent  to  look  alive,”  says  guard,  opening 
the  hindboot  and  shooting  in  the  parcels  after  examining 
them  by  the  lamps.  44  Here,  shove  the  portmanteau  up 
a-top — I’ll  fasten  him  presently.  Now  then,  sir,  jump  up 
behind.” 

44  Good-bye,  father, — my  love  at  home.”  A last  shake  of 
the  hand.  Up  goes  Tom,  the  guard  catching  his  hat-box, 
and  holding  on  with  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  he 
claps  the  horn  to  his  mouth.  Toot,  toot,  toot ! the  hostlers 
let  go  their  heads,  the  four  bays  plunge  at  the  collar,  and 
away  goes  the  Tally-ho  in  the  darkness,  forty-five  seconds 
from  the  time  they  pulled  up  ; Hostler,  Boots,  and  the 
Squire  stand  looking  after  them  under  the  Peacock  lamp. 

fc4  Sharp  work  ! ” says  the  Squire,  and  goes  in  again  to 
his  bed,  the  coach  being  well  out  of  sight  and  hearing. 

Tom  stands  up  on  the  coach  and  looks  back  at  his  father’s 
figure  as  long  as  he  can  see  it,  and  then  the  guard  having 
disposed  of  his  luggage  comes  to  an  anchor,  and  finishes 


66 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-BAYS. 


his  huttonings  and  other  preparations  for  facing  the  three 
hours  before  dawn  ; no  joke  for  those  who  minded  cold,  on 
a fast  coach  in  November,  in  the  reign  of  his  late  majesty. 

I sometimes  think  that  you  boys  of  this  generation  are  a 
deal  tenderer  fellow’s  than  we  used  to  be.  At  any  rate, 
you’re  much  more  comfortable  travelers,  for  I see  every 
one  of  you  with  his  rug  or  plaid,  and  other  dodges  for  pre- 
serving the  caloric,  and  most  of  you  going  in  those  fuzzy, 
dusty,  padded  first-class  carriages.  It  was  another  affair 
altogether,  a dark  ride  on  the  top  of  the  Tally-ho,  I can 
tell  you,  in  a tight  Petersham  coat,  and  your  feet  dangling 
six  inches  from  the  floor.  Then  you  knew  what  cold  was, 
and  what  it  was  to  be  without  legs,  for  not  a bit  of  feeling 
had  you  in  them  after  the  first  half  hour.  But  it  had  its 
pleasures,  the  old  dark  ride.  First  there  was  the  conscious- 
ness of  silent  endurance,  so  dear  to  every  Englishman, — of 
standing  out  against  something  and  not  giving  in.  Then 
there  was  the  music  of  the  rattling  harness,  ‘and  the  ring 
of  the  horse’s  feet  on  the  hard  road,  and  the  glare  of  the 
two  bright  lamps  through  the  steaming  hoar  frost,  over  the 
leaders’  ears,  into  the  darkness;  and  the  cheery  toot  of 
the  guard’s  horn,  to  warn  some  drowsy  pikeman,  or  the 
hostler  at  the  next  change  ; and  the  looking  forward  to 
daylight — and  last,  but  not  least,  the  delight  of  returning 
sensation  in  your  toes. 

Then  the  break  of  dawn  and  the  sunrise;  where  can 
they  ever  be  seen  in  perfection  but  from  a coach  roof? 
You  want  motion  and  change  and  music  to  see  them  in 
their  glory  ; not  the  music  of  singing  men  and  singing  wo- 
men, but  good  silent  music,  which  sets  itself  in  your  own 
head  the  accompaniment  of  work  and  getting  over  the 
ground. 

The  Tally-ho  is  past  St.  Alban’s,  and  Tom  is  enjoying 
the  ride,  though  half-frozen.  The  guard,  who  is  alone  with 
him  on  the  back  of  the  coach,  is  silent,  but  has  muffled 
Tom’s  feet  up  in  straw,  and  put  the  end  of  an  oat  sack 
over  his  knees.  The  darkness  has  driven  him  inward,  and 
he  has  gone  over  his  little  past  life,  and  thought  of  all  his 
doings  and  promises,  and  of  his  mother  and  sister,  and  his 
father’s  last  words  ; he  has  made  fifty  good  resolutions,  and 
means  to  bear  himself  like  a brave  Brown  as  he  is,  though 
a young  one* 


THE  STAGE-COACH . 


67 


Then  he  has  been  forward  into  the  mysterious  boy-future, 
speculating  as  to  what  sort  of  a place  Rugby  is,  and  what 
they  do  there,  and  calling  up  all  the  stories  of  public 
schools  which  he  has  heard  from  big  boys  in  the  holidays. 
He  is  chock  full  of  hope  and  life,  notwithstanding  the  cold, 
and  kicks  his  heels  against  the  backboard,  and  would  like 
to  sing,  only  he  doesn’t  know  how  his  friend  the  silent 
guard  might  take  it. 

And  now  the  dawn  breaks  at  the  end  of  the  fourth  stage, 
and  the  coach  pulls  up  at  a little  roadside  inn  with  huge 
stables  behind.  There  is  a bright  fire  gleaming  through 
the  red  curtains  of  the  bar  window,  .and  the  door  is 
open.  The  coachman  catches  his  whip  into  a double  thong, 
and  throws  it  to  the  hostler;  the  steam  of  the  horses  rises 
straight  up  into  the  air.  He  has  put  them  along  over  the 
last  two  miles,  and  is  two  minutes  before  his  time  ; he  rolls 
down  from  the  box  and  into  the  inn.  The  guard  rolls  off 
behind.  “Now,  sir,”  says  he  to  Tom,  “you  just  jump 
down  and  I’ll  give  you  a drop  of  something  to  keep  the 
cold  out.” 

Tom  finds  a difficulty  in  jumping,  or  indeed  in  finding 
the  top  of  the  wheel  with  his  feet,  which  may  be  in  the 
next  world  for  all  he  feels  ; so  the  guard  picks  him  off  the 
coach-top,  and  sets  him  on  his  legs,  and  they  stump  off  into 
the  bar,  and  ioin  the  coachman  and  the  other  outside  pas- 
sengers. 

Here  a fresh-looking  bar-maid  serves  them  each,  with  a 
glass  of  early  purl  as  they  stand  before  the  fire,  coachman 
and  guard  exchanging  business  remarks.  The  purl  warms 
the  cockles  of  Tom’s  heart,  and  makes  him  cough. 

“ Rare  tackle,  that,  sir,  of  a cold  morning,”  says  the 
coachman,  smiling.  “ Time’s  up.”  They  are  out  again 
and  up  ; coachee  the  last,  gathering  the  reins  into  his  hands 
and  talking  to  Jem  the  hostler  about  the  mare’s  shoulder, 
and  then  swinging  himself  up  on  to  the  box — the  horses 
dashing  off  in  a canter  before  he  falls  into  his  seat.  Toot- 
toot-tootle-too  goes  the  horn,  and  away  they  are  again,  five- 
and-thirty  miles  on  their  road  (nearly  half  way  to  Rugby, 
thinks  Tom)  and  the  prospect  of  breakfast  at  the  end  of 
the  stage. 

And  now  they  begin  to  see,  and  the  early  life  of  the 
country-side  comes  out;  a market  cart  or  two,  men  in 


68 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


smock-frocks  going  to  their  work,  pipe  in  mouth,  a whiff 
of  which  is  no  bad  smell  this  bright  morning.  The  sun 
gets  up,  and  the  mist  shines  like  silver  gauze.  They  pass 
the  hounds  jogging  along  to  a distant  meet,  at  the  heels  of 
the  huntsman’s  hack,  whose  face  is  about  the  color  of  the 
tails  of  his  old  pink,  as  he  exchanges  greetings  with  coach- 
man and  guard.  Now  they  pull  up  at  a lodge,  and  take  on 
board  a well-muffled-up  sportsman,  with  his  gun-case  and 
carpet-bag.  An  early  up-coach  meets  them,  and  the  coach- 
men gather  up  their  horses,  and  pass  one  another,  with  the 
accustomed  lift  of  the  elbow,  each  team  doing  eleven  miles 
an  hour,  with  a mile  to  spare  behind  if  necessary.  And 
here  comes  breakfast. 

“ Twenty  minutes  here,  gentlemen,*  says  the  coachman 
as  they  pull  up  at  half-past  seven  at  the  inn  door. 

Have  we  not  endured  nobly  this  morning,  and  is  not 
this  a worthy  reward  for  much  endurance  ? There  is  the 
low  dark  wainscoted  room  hung  with  sporting  prints  ; the 
hat-stand  (with  a whip  or  two  standing  up  in  it  belonging 
to  bagmen  who  are  still  snug  in  bed)  by  the  door  ; the 
blazing  fire,  with  the  quaint  old  glass  over  the  mantelpiece 
in  which  is  stuck  a large  card  with  the  list  of  the  meets 
for  the  week  of  the  county  hounds.  The  table  covered 
with  the  whitest  of  cloths  and  of  china,  and  bearing  a pig- 
eon-pie,  ham,  round  of  cold  boiled  beef  cut  from  a mam- 
moth ox,  and  the  great  loaf  of  household  bread  on  a wood- 
en trencher.  And  here  comes  in  the  stout  head-waiter, 
puffing  under  a tray  of  hot  viands ; kidneys  and  a steak, 
transparent  rashers  and  poached  eggs,  buttered  toast  and 
muffins,  coffee  and  tea,  all  smoking  hot.  The  table  can 
never  hold  it  all ; the  cold  meats  are  removed  to  the  side- 
board, they  were  only  put  on  for  a show  and  to  give  us  an 
appetite.  And  now  fall  on,  gentlemen  all.  It  is  a well- 
known  sporting-house,  and  the  breakfasts  are  famous. 
Two  or  three  men  in  pink,  on  their  way  to  the  meet,  drop 
in,  and  are  very  jovial  and  sharp-set,  as  indeed  we  all  are. 

“Tea  or  coffee,  sir?”  says  head-waiter,  coming  round  to 
Tom. 

“Coffee,  please,”  says  Tom,  with  his  mouth  full  of  muf- 
fin and  kidney ; coffee  is  a treat  to  him,  tea  is  not. 

Our  coachman,  I perceive,  who  breakfasts  with  us,  is  a 
cold-beef. man.  He  also  eschews  hot  potations,  and  addicts 


TEE  STAGE-COAGA. 


69 


himself  to  a tankard  of  ale,  which  is  brought  him  by  the 
barmaid.  Sportsman  looks  on  approvingly,  and  orders  a 
ditto  for  himself. 

Tom  has  eaten  kidney  and  pigeon-pie,  and  imbibed  cof- 
fee, till  his  little  skin  is  as  tight  as  a drum  ; and  then  has 
the  further  pleasure  of  paying  head-waiter  out  of  his  own 
purse,  in  a dignified  manner,  and  walks  out  before  the  inn 
door  to  see  the  horses  put  to.  This  is  done  leisurely  and 
in  a highly-finished  manner  by  the  hostlers,  as  if  they  en- 
joyed the  not  being  hurried.  Coachman  comes  out  with  his 
way-bill  and  puffing  a fat  cigar  which  the  sportsman  has 
given  him.  Guard  emerges  from  the  tap,  where  he  prefers 
breakfasting,  licking  round  a tough-looking  doubtful  che- 
root, which  you  might  tie  round  your  finger,  and  three 
whiffs  of  which  would  knock  any  one  else  out  of  time. 

The  pinks  stand  about  the  inn  door  lighting  cigars  and 
waiting  to  see  us  start,  while  their  hacks  are  led  up  and 
down  the  market-place  on  which  the  inn  looks.  They  all 
know  our  sportsman,  and  we  feel  a reflected  credit  when 
we  see  him  chatting  and  laughing  with  them. 

u Now,  sir,  please,”  says  the  coachman ; all  the  rest  of 
the  jjassengers  are  up ; the  guard  is  locking  the  hind  boot. 

u A good  run  to  you  ! ” says  the  sportsman  to  the  pinks, 
and  is  by  the  coachman’s  side  in  no  time. 

“ Let  ’em  go,  Dick  ! ” The  hostlers  fly  back,  drawing 
off  the  cloths  from  their  glossy  loins,  and  away  we  go 
through  the  market-place  and  down  the  High  Street,  look- 
ing in  at  the  first-floor  windows,  and  seeing  several  worthy 
burgesses  shaving  thereat ; while  all  the  shop-boys  who  are 
cleaning  the  windows,  and  housemaids  who  are  doing  the 
steps,  stop  and  look  pleased  as  we  rattle  past,  as  if  we  were 
a part  of  their  legitimate  morning’s  amusement.  We  clear 
the  town,  and  are  well  out  between  the  hedgerows  again  as 
the  town  clock  strikes  eight. 

The  sun  shines  almost  warmly,  and  breakfast  has  oiled 
all  springs  and  loosened  all  tongues.  Tom  is  encouraged 
by  a remark  or  two  of  the  guard’s  between  the  puffs  of  his 
oily  cheroot,  and  besides  is  getting  tired  of  not  talking ; 
he  is  too  full  of  his  destination  to  talk  about  anything  else ; 
and  so  asks  the  guard  if  he  knows  Rugby. 

“ Goes  through  it  every  day  of  my  life.  Twenty  minutes 
afore  twelve  down — ten  o’clock  up.” 


70 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-BAYS. 


44  What  sort  of  a place  is  it,  please  ? ” says  Tom. 

Guard  looks  at  him  with  a comical  expression.  44  Werry 
out-o’-the  way  place,  sir  ; no  paving  to  the  streets  nor  no 
lighting.  ’Mazin’  big  horse  and  cattle  fair  in  autumn — 
lasts  a week — just  over  now.  Takes  town  a week  to  get 
clean  after  it.  Fairish  hunting  country.  But  slow  place, 
sir,  slow  place  : off  the  main  road,  you  see — only  three 
coaches  a day,  and  one  on  ’em  a two-oss  wan,  more  like  a 
hearse  nor  a coach— Regulator— comes  from  Oxford.  Young 
genl’m’n  at  school  calls  her  Rig  and  Whistle,  and  goes  up 
to  college  by  her  (six  miles  an  hour)  when  they  goes  to 
enter.  Belong  to  school,  sir?” 

44  Yes,”  says  Tom,  not  unwilling  for  a moment  that  the 
guard  should  think  him  an  old  boy.  But  then  having  some 
qualms  as  to  the  truth  of  the  assertion,  and  seeing  that  if 
he  were  to  assume  the  character  of  an  old  boy  he  couldn’t 
go  on  asking  the  questions  he  wanted,  added — 44  that  is  to 
say,  I’m  on  my  way  there.  I’m  a new  boy.” 

The  guard  looked  as  if  he  knew  this  quite  as  well  as 
Tom. 

44  You’re  werry  late,  sir,”  says  the  guard ; 44  only  six  weeks 
to-day  to  the  end  of  the  half.”  Tom  assented.  44  We  takes 
up  fine  loads  this  day  six  weeks,  and  Monday  and  Tuesday 
arter.  Hopes  we  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  carrying  you 
back.” 

Tom  said  he  hoped  they  would ; but  he  thought  within 
himself  that  his  fate  would  probably  be  the  Pig  and 
Whistle. 

44  It  pays  uncommon,  cert’nly,”  continues  the  guard. 
44  Werry  free  with  their  cash  is  the  young  genl’m’n.  But 
Lor’  bless  you,  we  gets  into  such  rows  all  ’long  the  road, 
what  wi’  their  pea-shooters,  and  long  whips,  and  hollering, 
and  upsetting  every  one  as  comes  by  ; I’d  a sight  sooner 
carry  one  or  two  on  ’em,  sir,  as  I may  be  a carryin’  of  you 
now,  than  a coach  load.” 

44  What  do  they  do  with  the  pea-shooters  ? ” inquires 
Tom. 

44  Do  wi’  ’em  ! why,  peppers  every  one’s  faces  as  we 
comes  near,  ’cept  the  young  gals,  and  breaks  windows  wi’ 
them  too,  some  on  ’em  shoots  so  hard.  Now  ’twas  just 
here  last  June,  as  we  was  a driving  up  the  first-day  boys, 
they  was  mendin’  a quarter-mile  of  road,  and  there  was  a 


THE  STAGE-COACH. 


71 


lot  of  Irish  chaps,  reg’lar  roughs,  a breaking  stones.  As 
we  comes  up,  ‘Now,  boys,’  says  young  gent  on  the  box 
(smart  young  fellow  and  desper’t  reckless),  4 here’s  fun  ! 
Let  the  Pats  have  it  about  the  ears.’  4 God’s  sake  sir ! ’ 
says  Bob  (that’s  my  mate  the  coachman),  4 don’t  go  for  to 
shoot  at  ’em,  they’ll  knock  us  off  the  coach.’  ‘Damme, 
coachee,’  says  young  my  lord,  4 you  ain’t  afraid ; hoora, 
boys  ! let  ’em  have  it.’  4 Hoora  ! ’ sings  out  the  others,  and 
fill  their  mouths  chock  full  of  peas  to  last  the  whole  line. 
Bob  seeing  as  ’twas  to  come,  knocks  his  hat  over  his  eyes, 
hollers  to  his  ’osses,  and  shakes  ’em  up,  and  away  we  goes 
up  to  the  line  on  ’em,  twenty  miles  an  hour.  The  Pats 
begin  to  hoora  too,  thinking  it  was  a runaway,  and  first  lot 
on  ’em  stands  grinnin’  and  wavin’  their  old  hats  as  we 
comes  abreast  on  ’em ; and  then  you’d  ha’  laughed  to  see 
how  took  aback  and  choking  savage  they  looked  when 
they  gets  the  peas  a stinging  all  over  ’em.  But  bless  you, 
the  laugh  weren’t  all  of  our  side,  sir,  by  a long  way.  We 
was  going  so  fast,  and  they  was  so  took  aback,  that  they 
didn’t  take  what  was  up  till  we  was  half  way  up  the  line. 
Then  ’twas  4 look  out  all,’  surely.  They  howls  all  down 
the  line  fit  to  frighten  you,  some  on  ’em  runs  arter  us  and 
tries  to  clamber  up  behind,  only  we  hits  ’em  over  the 
fingers  and  pulls  their  hands  off ; one  as  had  had  it  very 
sharp  act’ly  runs  right  at  the  leaders,  as  though  he’d  ketch 
’em  by  the  heads,  only  luck’ly  for  him  he  misses  his  tip, 
and  comes  over  a heap  o’  stones,  first.  The  rest  picks  up 
stones,  and  gives  it  us  right  away  till  we  gets  out  o’  shot, 
the  young  gents  holding  out  werry  manful  with  the  pea- 
shooters, and  such  stones  as  lodged  on  us,  and  a pretty 
many  there  was  too.  Then  Bob  picks  hisself  up  again,  and 
looks  at  young  gent  on  box  werry  solemn.  Bob’d  had  a 
rum  un  in  the  ribs,  which’d  like  to  ha’  knocked  him  off  the 
box,  or  made  him  drop  the  reins.  Young  gent  on  box 
picks  hisself  up,  and  so  does  we  all,  and  looks  round  to 
count  damage.  Box’s  head  cut  open  and  his  hat  gone ; 
’nother  young  gent’s  hat  gone  ; mine  knocked  in  at  the  side, 
and  not  one  on  us  as  wasn’t  black  and  blue  somewheres  or 
another  ; most  on  ’em  all  over.  Two-pound-ten  to  pay  for 
damage  to  paint,  which  they  subscribed  for  there  and  then, 
and  give  Bob  and  me  a extra  half-sovereign  each;  but  I 
wouldn’t  go  down  that  line  again  not  for  twenty  half-sover- 


72 


TOM  BLOWN' S SCHOOL-DAYS. 


eigns.”  And  the  guard  shook  his  head  slowly,  and  got  up 
and  blew  a clear,  brisk  toot-toot. 

“ What  fun  ! ” said  Tom,  who  could  scarcely  contain  his 
pride  at  this  exploit  of  his  future  schoolfellows.  He 
longed  already  for  the  end  of  the  half,  that  he  might  join 
them. 

“ ’Taint  such  good  fun  though,  sir,  for  the  folk  as  meets 
the  coach,  nor  for  we  who  has  to  go  back  with  it  next  day. 
Them  Irishers  last  summer  had  all  got  stones  ready  for  us, 
and  was  all  but  letting  drive,  and  we’d  got  two  reverend 
gents  aboard  too.  We  pulled  up  at  the  beginning  of  the 
line,  and  pacified  them,  and  we’re  never  going  to  carry  no 
more  pea-shooters,  unless  they  promises  not  to  fire  where 
there’s  a line  of  Irish  chaps  a stone-breaking.”  The  guard 
stopped  and  pulled  away  at  his  cheroot,  regarding  Tom  be- 
nignantly  the  while. 

“ Oh,  don’t  stop ! tell  us  something  more  about  the  pea- 
shooting.” 

“Well,  there’d  like  to  have  been  a pretty  piece  of  work 
over  it  at  Bicester,  a while  back.  We  was  six  mile  from 
the  town,  when  we  meets  an  old  square-headed  gray-haired 
yeoman  chap,  a jogging  along  quite  quiet.  He  looks  up  at  the 
coach,  and  just  then  a pea  hits  him  on  the  nose,  and  some 
ketches  his  cob  behind  and  makes  him  dance  up  on  his  hind 
legs.  I see’d  the  old  boy’s  face  flush  and  look  plaguy  awk- 
ward, and  I thought  we  was  in  for  somethin’  nasty. 

“ He  turns  his  cob’s  head,  and  rides  quickly  after  us  just 
out  of  shot.  How  that  ere  cob  did  step  ! we  never  shook 
him  off  not  a dozen  yards  in  the  six  mile.  At  first  the 
young  gents  was  werry  lively  on  him  ; but  afore  we  got 
in,  seeing  how  steady  the  old  chap  come  on,  they  was 
quite  quiet,  and  laid  their  heads  together  what  they  should 
do.  Some  was  for  fighting,  some  for  axing  his  pardon, 
lie  rides  into  the  town  close  after  us,  comes  up  when  we 
stops,  and  says  the  two  as  shot  at  him  must  come  before  a 
magistrate;  and  a great  crowd  comes  round,  and  we 
couldn’t  get  the  ’osses  to.  But  the  young  uns,  they  all 
stand  by  one  another,  and  says  all  or  none  must  go,  and  as 
how  they’d  fight  it  out,  and  have  to  be  carried.  Just  as 
’twas  gettin’  serious,  and  the  old  boy  and  the  mob  was 
goin’  to  pull  ’em  off  the  coach,  one  little  fellow  jumps  up 
and  says,  4 Here — I’ll  stay — I’m  only  going  three  miles 


THE  STAGE-COACH. 


73 


further.  My  father’s  name’s  Davis;  lie’s  known  about, 
here,  and  I’ll  go  before  the  magistrate  with  this  gentleman.’ 
What,  be  thee  Parson  Davis’s  son?’  says  the  old  boy. 

‘ Yes,’ says  the  young  un.  ‘Well,  I be  mortal  sorry  to 
meet  thee  in  such  company,  but  for  thy  father’s  sake  and 
thine  (for  thee  bist  a brave  young  chap)  I’ll  say  no  more 
about  it.’  Didn’t  the  boys  cheer  him,  and  the  mob  cheered 
the  young  chap — and  then  one  of  the  biggest  gets  down, 
and  begs  his  pardon  werry  gentlemanly  for  all  the  rest, 
saying  as  they  all  had  been  plaguy  vexed  from  the  first, 
but  didn’t  like  to  ax  his  pardon  till  then,  ’cause  they  Ldt 
they  hadn’t  ought  to  shirk  the  consequences  of  their  joke. 
And  then  they  all  got  down  and  shook  hands  with  the  ( Id 
boy,  and  asked  him  to  all  parts  of  the  country,  to  their 
homes  ; and  we  drives  off  twenty  minutes  behind  time, 
with  cheering  and  hollering  as  if  we  was  county  members. 
But,  Lor’  bless  you,  sir,”  says  the  guard,  smacking  his 
hand  down  on  his  knee  and  looking  full  into  Tom’s  face, 
“ ten  minutes  arter  they  was  all  as  bad  as  ever.” 

Tom  showed  such  undisguised  and  open-mouthed  in- 
terest in  his  narrations,  that  the  old  guard  rubbed  up  his 
memory,  and  launched  out  into  a graphic  history  of  all  the 
performances  of  the  boys  on  the  road  for  the  last  twenty 
years.  Off  the  road  he  couldn’t  go  ; the  exploit  must  have 
been  connected  with  horses  or  vehicles  to  hang  in  the  old 
fellow’s  head.  Tom  tried  him  off  his  own  ground  once  or 
twice,  but  found  he  knew  nothing  beyond,  and  so  let  him 
have  his  head,  and  the  rest  of  the  road  bowled  easily  away ; 
for  old  Blowhard  (as  the  boys  called  him)  was  a dry  old 
file,  with  much  kindness  and  humor,  and  a capital  spinner 
of  a yarn  when  he  had  broken  the  neck  of  his  day’s  work, 
and  got  plenty  of  ale  under  his  belt. 

What  struck  Tom’s  youthful  imagination  most  was  the 
desperate  and  lawless  character  of  most  of  the  stories. 
Was  the  guard  hoaxing  him?  He  couldn’t  help  hoping 
that  they  were  true.  It’s  very  odd  how  almost  all  English 
boys  love  danger ; you  can  get  ten  to  join  a game,  or  climb 
a tree,  or  swim  a stream,  when  there’s  a chance  of  break- 
ing their  limbs  or  getting  drowned,  fir  one  who’ll  stay  on 
level  ground,  or  in  his  depth,  or  play  quoits  or  bowls. 

The  guard  had  just  finished  an  account  of  a desperate 
fight  which  had  happened  at  one  of  the  fairs  between  the 


74 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


drovers  and  the  farmers  with  tlieir  whips,  and  the  boys 
with  cricket-bats  and  wickets,  which  arose  out  of  a play- 
ful but  objectionable  practice  of  the  boys  going  around  to 
the  public-houses  and  taking  the  linch-pins  out  of  the 
wheels  of  the  gigs,  and  was  moralizing  upon  the  way  in 
which  the  Doctor,  “a  terrible  stern  man.  he’d  heard  tell,” 
had  come  down  upon  several  of  the  performers,  “ sending 
three  on  ’em  off  next  morning,  each  in  a po-chay  with  a 
parish  constable,”  when  they  turned  a corner  and  neared 
the  milestone,  the  third  from  Rugby.  By  the  stone  two 
hoys  oU)0d,  their  jackets  buttoned  tight,  waiting  for  the 
coach. 

“ Look  here,  sir,”  says  the  guard,  after  giving  a sharp  toot- 
toot,  “ there’s  two  on  ’em;  out  and  out  runners  they  be. 
They  come  out  about  twice  or  three  times  a week,  and 
spirts  a mile  alongside  of  us.” 

And  as  they  came  up,  sure  enough,  away  went  two  boys 
along  the  footpath,  keeping  up  with  the  horses  ; the  first  a 
light,  clean-made  fellow  going  on  springs,  the  other  stout 
and  round  shouldered,  laboring  in  his  pace,  but  going  as 
dogged  as  a bull-terrier. 

O ; d Blow-hard  looked  on  admiringly.  “ See  how  beau- 
tifully that  ere  un  holds  hisself  together,  and  goes  from  his 
hips,  sir,”  said  he  ; “he’s  a ’mazin’  fine  runner.  Now, 
many  coachmen  as  drives  a first-rate  team’d  put  it  on  and 
try  and  pass  ’em.  But  Bob,  sir,  bless  you,  he’s  tender- 
hearted ; he’d  sooner  pull  in  a bit  if  he  see’d  ’em  gettin’ 
beat.  I do  b’lieve,  too,  as  that  there  un ’d  sooner  break 
his  heart  than  let  us  go  by  him  afore  next  milestone.” 

At  the  second  milestone  the  boys  pulled  up  short  and 
waved  their  hats  to  the  guard,  who  had  his  watch  out  and 
shouted  “ 4.56,”  thereby  indicating  that  the  mile  had  been 
done  in  four  seconds  under  the  five  minutes.  They  passed 
several  more  parties  of  boys,  all  of  them  objects  of  the 
deepest  interest  to  Tom,  and  came  in  sight  6f  the  town  at 
ten  minutes  before  twelve.  Tom  fetched  a long  breath, 
and  thought  he  had  never  spent  a pleasanter  day.  Before 
he  went  to  bed  he  had  quite  settled  that  it  must  be  the 
greatest  day  he  should  ever  spend,  and  didn’t  alter  his 
opinion  for  many  a long  year — if  he  has  yet. 


RUGBY  AN1)  FOOTBALL. 


75 


CHAPTER  V. 

RUGBY  AND  FOOTBALL. 

“ — Foot  and  eye  opposed 
In  dubious  strife.” 

“And  so  here’s  Rugby,  sir,  at  last,  and  you’ll  be  in 
plenty  of  time  for  dinner  at  the  school-house,  as  I tell’d 
you,”  said  the  old  guard,  pulling  his  horn  out  of  its  case, 
and  tootle-tooing  away;  while  the  coachman  shook  up  his 
horses,  and  carried  them  along  the  side  of  the  school  close, 
round  Dead-man’s  corner,  past  the  school  gates,  and  down 
the  High  street  to  the  Spread  Eagle ; the  wheelers  in  a 
spanking  trot,  and  leaders  cantering,  in  a style  which 
would  not  have  disgraced  “ Cherry  Bob,”  “ ramping,  stamp- 
ing, tearing,  swearing  Billy  Harwood,”  or  any  other  of  the 
old  coaching  heroes. 

Tom’s  heart  beat  quick  as  he  passed  the  great  school 
field  or  close,  with  its  noble  elms,  in  which  several  games 
at  football  were  going  on,  and  tried  to  take  in  at  once  the 
long  line  of  gray  buildings,  beginning  with  the  chapel,  and 
ending  with  the  school-house,  the  residence  of  the  head- 
master, where  the  great  flag  was  lazily  waving  from  the 
highest  round  tower.  And  he  began  already  to  be  proud 
of  being  a Rugby  boy,  as  he  passed  the  school-gates,  with 
the  oriel-window  above,  and  saw  the  boys  standing  there, 
looking  as  if  the  towm  belonged  to  them,  and  nodding  in  a 
familiar  manner  to  the  coachman,  as  if  any  one  of  them 
would  be  quite  equal  to  getting  on  the  box  and  working 
the  team  down  street  as  well  as  he. 

One  of  the  young  heroes,  however,  ran  out  from  the  rest, 
and  scrambled  up  behind ; where,  having  righted  himself 
and  nodded  to  the  guard  with  “ How  do,  Jem  ? ” he  turned 
short  around  to  Tom,  and,  after  looking  him  over  for  a 
minute,  began — 

“ I say,  you  fellow,  is  your  name  Brown  ? ” 

“ Yes,”  said  Tom,  in  considerable  astonishment ; glad 
however,  to  have  lighted  on  some  one  already  who  seemed 
to  know  him. 

“ Ah,  I thought  so  ; you  know  my  old  aunt,  Miss  East ; 
she  lives  somewhere  down  your  way  in  Berkshire.  She 


76 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


wrote  to  me  that  you  were  coming  to-day,  and  asked  me 
to  give  you  a lift.”  * 

Tom  was  somewhat  inclined  to  resent  the  patronizing 
air  of  his  new  friend — a boy  of  just  about  his  own  height 
and  age,  but  gifted  with  the  most  transcendent  coolness 
and  assurance,  which  Tom  felt  to  be  aggravating  and  hard 
to  bear,  but  couldn’t  for  the  life  of  him  help  admiring  and 
envying  especially  when  young  my  lord  begins  hectoring 
two  or  three  long  loafing  fellows,  half  porter,  half  stable- 
man, with  a strong  touch  of  the  blackguard,  and  in  the 
end  arranges  with  one  of  them,  nicknamed  Cooey,  to  carry 
Tom’s  luggage  up  to  the  school-house  for  sixpence. 

“ And  heark’ee,  Cooey,  it  must  be  up  in  ten  minutes,  or 
no  more  jobs  from  me.  Come  along,  Brown.”  And  avay 
swaggers  the  young  potentate,  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  and  Tom  at  his  side. 

“ All  right,  sir,”  says  Cooey,  touching  his  hat,  with  a 
leer  and  a wink  at  his  companions. 

“ Hullo  though,”  says  East,  pulling  up,  and  taking  an- 
other look  at  Tom,  “ this’ll  never  do — haven’t  you  got  a 
hat? — we  never  wear  caps  here.  Only  the  louts  wear  caps. 
Bless  you,  if  you  were  to  go  into  the  quadrangle  with  that 

thing  on,  I don’t  know  what’d  happen.”  The  very  idea 

was  quite  beyond  young  Master  East,  and  he  looked  un- 
utterable things. 

Tom  thought  his  cap  a very  knowing  affair,  but  con- 
fessed that  he  had  a hat  in  his  hat  box ; which  was  accord- 
ingly at  once  extracted  from  the  hind  boot,  and  Tom 
equipped  in  his  go-to-meeting  roof,  as  his  new  friend  called 
it.  But  this  didn’t  quite  suit  his  fastidious  taste  in  an- 
other minute,  being  too  shiny ; so,  as  they  walk  up  the 
town,  they  dive  into  Nixon’s  the  hatter’s,  and  Tom  is  ar- 
rayed, to  his  utter  astonishment,  and  without  paying  for 
it,  in  a regulation  cat-skin  at  seven-and-sixpence ; Nixon 
undertaking  to  send  the  best  hat  up  to  the  matron’s  room, 
school-house,  in  half  an  hour. 

“ You  can  send  in  a note  for  a tile  on  Monday,  and  make 
it  all  right,  you  know,”  said  Mentor;  “we’re  allowed 
two  seven-and-sixers  a half,  besides  what  we  bring  from 
home.” 

Tom  by  this  time  began  to  be  conscious  of  his  new  social 
position  and  dignities,  and  to  luxuriate  in  the  realized 


RUGBY  AND  FOOTBALL . 77 

ambition  of  being  a public-school  boy  at  last,  with  a vested 
right  of  spoiling  two  seven-and-sixers  in  half  a year. 

u You  see,”  said  his  friend,  as  they  strolled  up  towards 
the  school-gates,  in  explanation  of  his  conduct — ua  great 
deal  depends  on  how  a fellow  cuts  up  at  first.  If  he’s  got 
nothing  odd  about  him,  and  answers  straightforward  and 
holds  his  head  up,  he  gets  on.  Now  youll  do  very  well  as 
to  rig,  all  but  that  cap.  You  see  I’m  doing  the  handsome 
thing  by  you,  because  my  father  knows  yours ; besides,  I 
want  to  please  the  old  lady.  She  gave  me  half-a-sov.  this 
half,  and  perhaps’ 11  double  it  next,  if  I keep  in  her  good 
books.” 

There’s  nothing  for  candor  like  a lower-school  boy ; and 
East  was  a genuine  specimen— frank,  hearty,  and  good- 
natured,  well  satisfied  with  himself  and  his  position,  and 
chock  full  of  life  and  spirits,  and  all  the  Rugby  prejudices 
and  traditions  which  he  had  been  able  to  get  together,  in 
the  long  course  of  one  half  year,  during  which  he  had  been 
at  the  school-house. 

And  Tom,  notwithstanding  his  bumptiousness,  felt  friends 
with  him  at  once,  and  began  sucking  in  all  his  ways  and 
prejudices,  as  fast  as  he  could  understand  them. 

East  was  great  in  the  character  of  cicerone : he  carried 
Tom  through  the  great  gates,  where  were  only  two  or  three 
boys.  These  satisfied  themselves  with  the  stock  questions, 
— “ You  fellow,  what’s  your  name  ? Where  do  you  come 
from  ? How  old  are  you  ? Where  do  you  board  ? and, 
What  form  are  you  in  ? ” — and  so  they  passed  on  through 
the  quadrangle  and  a small  courtyard,  upon  which  looked 
down  a lot  of  little  windows  (belonging  as  his  guide  in- 
formed him,  to  some  of  the  school-house  studies),  into  the 
matron’s  room,  where  East  introduced  Tom  to  that  dig- 
nitary; made  him  give  up  the  key  of  his  trunk  that  the 
matron  might  unpack  his  linen,  and  told  che  story  of  the 
hat  and  of  his  own  presence  of  mind  : upon  the  relation 
whereof  the  matron  laughingly  scolded  him,  for  the  coolest 
new  boy  in  the  house  ; and  East,  indignant  at  the  accusation 
of  newness,  marched  Tom  off  into  the  quadrangle  and  be- 
gan showing  him  the  schools,  and  examining  him  as  to  his 
literary  attainments  ; the  result  of  which  was  a prophecy 
that  they  would  be  in  the  same  form,  and  could  do  their 
lessons  together, 


78 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS . 


“ And  now  come  in  and  see  my  study ; we  shall  have  just 
time  before  dinner ; and  afterwards,  before  calling  over, 
we’ll  do  the  close.” 

Tom  followed  his  guide  through  the  school-house  hall, 
which  opens  into  the  quadrangle.  It  is  a great  room  thirty 
feet  long  and  eighteen  high,  or  thereabouts,  with  two  great 
tables  running  the  whole  length,  and  two  large  fireplaces  at 
the  side,  with  blazing  fires  in  them,  at  one  of  which  some 
dozen  boys  were  standing  and  lounging,  some  of  whom 
shouted  to  East  to  stop  ; but  he  shot  through  with  his  con- 
voy, and  landed  him  in  the  long  dark  passages,  with  a large 
fire  at  the  end  of  each,  upon  which  the  studies  opened.  In- 
to one  of  these,  in  the  bottom  passage,  East  bolted  with  our 
hero,  slamming  and  bolting  the  door  behind  them,  in  case 
of  pursuit  from  the  hall,  and  Tom  was  for  the  first  time  in  a 
Rugby  boy’s  citadel. 

He  hadn’t  been  prepared  for  separate  studies,  and  was  not 
a little  astonished  and  delighted  with  the  palace  in  question. 

It  wasn’t  very  large  certainly,  being  about  six  feet  long 
by  four  broad.  It  couldn’t  be  called  light,  as  there  were 
bars  and  a grating  to  the  window  ; which  little  precautions 
were  necessary  in  the  studies  on  the  ground  floor  looking 
out  into  the  close,  to  prevent  the  exit  of  small  boys  after 
locking  up,  and  the  entrance  of  contraband  articles.  But 
it  was  uncommonly  comfortable  to  look  at,  Tom  thought. 
The  space  under  the  window  at  the  further  end  was  oc- 
cupied by  a square  table  covered  with  a reasonably  clean  and 
whole  red-and-blue  check  tablecloth;  a hard  seated  sofa 
covered  with  red  stuff  occupied  one  side,  running  up  to  the 
end,  and  making  a seat  for  one,  or,  by  sitting  close,  for  two, 
at  the  table  ; and  a good  stout  wooden  chair  afforded  a seat 
to  another  boy,  so  that  three  could  sit  and  work  together. 
The  walls  were  wainscoted  half  way  up,  the  wainscot  being 
covered  with  green  baize,  the  remainder  with  a bright  pat- 
terned paper,  on  which  hung  three  or  four  prints,  of  dogs’ 
heads,  Grimaldi  winning  the  Alyesbury  steeplechase,  Amy 
Robsart,  the  reigning  Waverley  beauty  of  the  day,  and  Tom 
Crib  in  a posture  of  defense,  which  did  no  credit  to  the 
science  of  that  hero,  if  truly  represented.  Over  the  door 
were  a row  of  hat  pegs,  and  on  each  side  bookcases  with  cup- 
boards at  the  bottom  ; shelves  and  cupboards  being  filled 
indiscriminately  with  school  books,  a cup  or  two,  a mouse- 


BUGBY  AND  FOOTBALL. 


79 


trap,  and  brass  candlesticks,  leather  straps,  a fustian  bag, 
and  some  curious  looking  articles,  which  puzzled  Tom  not 
a little,  until  his  friend  explained  that  they  were  climbing 
irons,  and  showed  their  use.  A cricket  bat  and  small  fish- 
ing rod  stood  up  in  one  corner. 

This  was  the  residence  of  East  and  another  boy  in  the 
same  form,  and  had  more  interest  for  Tom  than  Windsor 
Castle  or  any  other  residence  in  the  British  Isles.  For  was 
he  not  about  to  become  the  joint  owner  of  a similar  home, 
the  first  place  which  he  could  call  his  own  ! One’s  own ! 
What  a charm  there  is  in  the  words  ! How  long  it  takes 
boy  and  man  to  find  out  their  worth ! how  fast  most  of  us 
hold  on  to  them  ! faster  and  more  jealously  the  nearer  we 
are  to  that  general  home  into  which  we  can  take  nothing, 
but  must  go  naked  as  we  came  into  the  world.  When  shall 
we  learn  that  he  who  multiplieth  possessions  multiplieth 
troubles,  and  that  the  one  single  use  of  things  which  we  call 
our  own  is  that  they  may  be  his  who  hath  need  of  them  ? 

44  And  shall  I have  a study  like  this  too  ? ” said  Tom. 

44  Yes,  of  course,  you’ll  be  chummed  with  some  fellow  on 
Monday,  and  you  can  sit  here  till  then.” 

44  What  nice  places  ! ” 

44  They’re  well  enough,”  answered  East  patronizingly, 
44  only  uncommon  cold  at  nights  sometimes.  Gower — that’s 
my  chum — and  I make  a fire  with  paper  on  the  floor  after 
supper  generally,  only  that  makes  it  so  smoky.” 

44  But  there’s  a big  fire  out  in  the  passage,”  said  Tom. 

44  Precious  little  good  we  get  out  of  that  though,”  said 
East;  44  Jones  the  praepostor  has  the  study  at  the  fire  end, 
and  he  has  rigged  up  an  iron  rod  and  green  baize  curtain 
across  the  passage,  wliich  he  draws  at  night,  and  sits  there 
with  his  door  open,  so  he  gets  all  the  fire,  and  hears  if  we 
come  out  of  our  studies  after  eight,  or  make  a noise. 
However,  he’s  taken  to  sitting  in  the  fifth  form  room  lately, 
so  we  do  get  a bit  of  fire  now  sometimes  ; only  keep  a sharp 
look-out  that  he  don’t  catch  you  behind  his  curtain  when 
he  comes  down — that’s  all.” 

A quarter-past  one  now  struck,  and  the  bell  began  tolling 
for  dinner,  so  they  went  into  the  hall  and  took  their  places, 
Tom  at  the  very  bottom  of  the  second  table,  next  to  the 
praepostor  (who  sat  at  the  end  to  keep  order  there),  and  East 
a few  paces  higher.  And  now  Tom  for  the  first  time  saw  his 


80 


TOM  BROWN’S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


future  schoolfellows  in  a body.  In  they  came,  some  hot  and 
ruddy  from  football  or  long  walks,  some  pale  and  chilly 
from  hard  reading  in  their  studies,  some  from  loitering  over 
the  lire  at  the  pastrycook’s,  dainty  mortals,  bringing  with 
them  pickles  and  sauce  bottles  to  help  them  with  their  din- 
ners. And  a great  big  bearded  man,  whom  Tom  took  for 
a master,  began  calling  over  the  names,  while  the  great 
joints  were  being  rapidly  carved  on  a third  table  in  the 
corner  by  the  old  verger  and  the  housekeeper.  Tom’s  turn 
came  last,  and  meanwhile  he  was  all  eyes,  looking  first  with 
awe  at  the  great  man  who  sat  close  to  him,  and  was  helped 
first,  and  who  read  a hard-looking  book  all  the  time  he  was 
eating ; and  when  he  got  up  and  walked  off  to  the  fire,  at 
the  small  boys  round  him,  some  of  whom  were  reading, 
and  the  rest  talking  in  whispers  to  one  Another,  or  stealing 
one  another’s  bread,  or  shooting  pellets,  or  digging  their 
forks  through  the  tablecloth.  However,  notwithstanding 
his  curiosity,  he  managed  to  make  a capital  dinner  by  the 
time  the  big  man  called  44  Stand  up  ! ” and  said  grace. 

As  soon  as  dinner  was  over,  and  Tom  had  been  ques- 
tioned by  such  of  his  neighbors  as  were  curious  as  to  his 
birth,  parentage,  education,  and  other  like  matters,  East, 
who  evidently  enjoyed  his  new  dignity  of  patron  and 
mentor,  proposed  having  a look  at  the  close,  which  Tom, 
athirst  for  knowledge,  gladly  assented  to,  and  they  went 
out  through  the  quadrangle  and  past  the  big  fives’-court, 
into  the  great  playground. 

44  That’s  the  chapel,  you  see,”  said  East,  44  and  there  just 
behind  it  is  the  place  for  fights ; you  see  it’s  most  out  of 
the  way  of  the  masters,  who  all  live  on  the  other  side  and 
don’t  come  by  here  after  first  lesson  or  callings-over.  That’s 
when  -the  fights  come  off.  And  all  this  part  where  we  are 
is  the  little  side-ground,  right  up  to  the  trees,  and  on  the 
other  side  of  the  trees  is  the  big  side-ground  where  the 
great  matches  are  played.  And  there’s  the  island  in  the 
furthest  corner ; you’ll  know  that  well  enough  next  half, 
when  there’s  island  fagging.  I say,  it’s  horrid  cold,  let’s 
have  a run  across,”  and  away  went  East,  Tom  close  behind 
him.  East  was  evidently  putting  his  best  foot  foremost, 
and  Tom,  who  was  mighty  proud  of  his  running,  and  not 
a little  anxious  to  show  his  friend  that  although  a new  boy 
he  was  no  milksop,  laid  himself  down  to  the  work  in  his 


BUGBY  AND  FOOTBALL. 


81 


very  best  style.  Right  across  the  close  they  went,  each 
doing  all  he  knew,  and  there  wasn’t  a yard  between  them 
when  they  pulled  up  at  the  island  moat. 

“ I say,”  said  East,  as  soon  as  he  got  his  wind,  looking 
with  much  increased  respect  at  Tom,  “ you  ain’t  a bad 
scud,  not  by  no  means.  Well,  I’m  as  warm  as  a toast 
now.” 

“But  why  do  you  wear  white  trousers  in  November?  ” 
said  Tom.  He  had  been  struck  by  this  peculiarity  in  the 
costume  of  almost  all  the  school-house  boys. 

“ Why,  bless  us,  don’t  you  know  ? — No,  I forgot.  Why, 
to-day’s  the  school-house  match.  Our  house  plays  the 
whole  of  the  school  at  football.  And  we  all  wear  white 
trousers,  to  show  ’em  we  don’t  care  for  hacks.  You’re  in 
luck  to  come  to-day.  You  just  will  see  a match;  and 
Brooke’s  going  to  let  me  play  in  quarters.  That's  more 
than  he’ll  do  for  any  other  lower-school  boy  except  James, 
and  he’s  fourteen.” 

“ Who’s  Brooke  ? ” 

“ Why,  that  big  fellow  who  called  over  at  dinner,  to  be 
sure.  He’s  cock  of  the  school,  and  head  of  the  school- 
house  side,  and  the  best  kick  and  charger  in  Rugby.” 

“Oh,  but  do  show  me  where  they  play?  And  tell  me 
about  it.  I love  football  so,  and  have  played  all  my  life. 
Won’t  Brooke  let  me  play?  ” 

“ Not  he,”  said  East,  with  some  indignation  ; “ why,  you 
don’t  know  the  rules — you’ll  be  a month  learning  them. 
And  then  it’s  no  joke  playing-up  in  a match.  I can  tell 
you.  Quite  another  thing  from  your  private  school  games. 
Why,  there’s  been  two  collar-bones  broken  this  half,  and  a 
dozen  fellows  lamed.  And  last  year  a fellow  had  his  leg 
broken.” 

Tom  listened  with  the  profoundest  respect  to  this  chapter 
of  accidents,  and  followed  East  across  the  level  ground  till 
they  came  to  a sort  of  gigantic  gallows  of  two  poles  eight- 
een feet  high,  fixed  upright  in  the  ground  some  fourteen 
feet  apart,  with  a cross  bar  running  from  one  to  the  other 
at  the  height  of  ten  feet  or  thereabouts. 

“ This  is  one  of  the  goals,”  said  East,  “ and  you  see  the 
other  across  there,  right  opposite,  under  the  Doctor’s  wall. 
Well,  the  match  is  for  the  best  of  the  three  goals  ; which- 
ever sidekicks  two  goals  wins,  and  it  won’t  do,  you  see, 

6 f 


.82 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


just  to  kick  the  ball  through  three  posts,  it  must  go  over 
the  cross  bar ; any  height’ll  do,  so  long  as  its  between  the 
posts.  You’ll  have  to  stay  in  goal  to  touch  the  ball,  when 
it  rolls  behind  the  posts,  because  if  the  other  side  touch  it 
they  have  a try  at  goal.  Then  we  fellows  in  quarters,  we 
play  just  about  in  front  of  goal  here,  and  have  to  turn  the 
ball  and  kick  it  back  before  the  big  fellows  on  the  other 
side  can  follow  it  up,  And  in  front  of  us  all  the  big 
fellows  play,  and  that’s  where  the  scrummages  are  mostly.” 

Tom’s  respect  increased  as  he  struggled  to  make  out  his 
friend’s  technicalities,  and  the  other  set  to  work  to  explain 
the  mysteries  of  “ off  your  side,”  “drop-kicks,”  “punts,” 
“places,”  and  the  other  intricacies  of  the  great  science  of 
football. 

“ But  how  do  you  keep  the  ball  between  the  goals  ? ” 
said  he.  “ I can’t  see  why  it  mightn’t  go  right  down  to 
the  chapel.” 

“ Why,  that’s  out  of  play,”  answered  East.  “ You  see 
this  gravel  walk  running  down  all  along  this  side  of  the 
playing-ground,  and  the  line  of  elms  opposite  on  the  other? 
Well,  they’re  the  bounds.  As  soon  as  the  ball  gets  past 
them,  it’s  in  touch  and  out  of  play.  And  the  who  first 
touches  it,  has  to  knock  it  straight  out  amongst  the  players- 
up,  who  make  two  lines  with  a space  between  them,  every 
fellow  going  on  his  own  side.  Ain’t  there  just  fine  scrum- 
mages then ! and  the  three  trees  you  see  there  which  come 
out  into  the  play,  that’s  a tremendous  place  when  the  ball 
hangs  there,  for  you  get  thrown  against  the  trees,  and  that’s 
worse  than  any  hack.” 

Tom  wondered  within  himself  as  they  strolled  back  again 
toward  the  fives’-court  whether  the  matches  were  really 
such  break-neck  affairs  as  East  represented,  and  whether, 
if  they  were,  he  should  ever  get  to  like  them  and  play-up 
well. 

He  hadn’t  long  to  wonder,  however,  for  next  minute 
East  cried  out,  “ Hurra!  here’s  the  punt-about,  come  along 
and  try  your  hand  at  a kick.”  The  punt-about  is  the  prac- 
tice ball,  which  is  just  brought  out  and  kicked  about  any- 
how from  one  boy  to  another  before  calling-over  and  din- 
ner, and  at  other  odd  times.  They  joined  the  boys  who 
had  brought  it  out,  all  small  school-house  fellows,  friends 
of  East ; and  Tom  had  the  pleasure  of  trying  his  skill,  and 


miQBT  AND  FOOTBALL. 


88 


performed  very  creditably,  after  first  driving  his  foot  three 
inches  into  the  ground,  and  then  nearly  kicking  his  leg  in- 
to the  air,  in  vigorous  efforts  to  accomplish  a drop-kick 
after  the  manner  of  East. 

Presently  more  boys  and  bigger  came  out,  and  boys  from 
other  houses  on  their  way  to  calling-over,  and  more  balls 
were  sent  for.  The  crowd  thickened  as  three  o’clock  ap- 
proached ; and  when  the  hour  struck,  one  hui  dred  and 
fifty  boys  were  hard  at  work.  Then  the  balls  were  held, 
the  master  of  the  week  came  down  in  cap  and  gown  to  call- 
ing-over, and  the  whole  school  of  three  hundred  boys  s wept 
into  the  big  school  to  answer  to  their  names. 

“ I may  come  in,  mayn’t  I ? ” said  Tom,  catching  East 
by  the  arm  and  longing  to  feel  one  of  them. 

“ Yes,  come  along,  nobody’ll  say  anything.  You  won’t 
be  so  eager  to  get  into  calling-over  after  a month,”  replied 
his  friend ; and  they  marched  into  the  big  school  together, 
and  up  to  the  further  end,  where  that  illustrious  form,  the 
lower-fourth,  which  had  the  honor  of  East’s  patronage  for 
the  time  being,  stood. 

The  master  mounted  into  the  high  desk  by  the  door,  and 
one  of  the  praepostors  of  the  week  stood  by  him  on  the 
steps,  the  other  three  marching  up  and  down  the  middle  of 
the  school  with  their  canes,  calling  out  “ Silence,  silence  ! ” 
The  sixth  form  stood  close  by  the  door  on  the  left,  some 
thirty  in  number,  mostly  great  big  grown  men,  as  Tom 
thought,  surveying  them  from  a distance  with  awe.  The 
fifth  form  behind  them,  twice  their  number  and  not  quite 
so  big.  These  on  the  left ; and  on  the  right  the  lower-fifth, 
shell,  and  all  the  junior  forms  in  order;  while  up  the  mid- 
dle marched  the  three  praepostors. 

Then  the  praepostor  who  stands  by  the  master  calls  out 
the  names,  beginning  with  the  sixth  form,  and,  as  he  calls, 
each  boy  answers  “ Here  ” to  his  name,  and  walks  out. 
Some  of  the  sixth  stop  at  the  door  to  turn  the  whole  string 
of  boys  into  the  close ; it  is  a great  match  day,  and  every 
boy  in  the  school,  will-he,  nill-he,  must  be  there.  The  rest 
of  the  sixth  go  forward  into  the  close,  to  see  that  no  one 
escapes  by  any  of  the  side  gates. 

To-day,  however,  being  the  school-house  match,  none  of 
the  school-house  praepostors  stay  by  the  door  to  watch  for 
truants  of  their  side  ; there  is  carte  blanche  to  the  school- 


84 


TOM  BRO  \VN  ’ 8 SCHOOL-DA  YS. 


house  fags  to  go  where  they  like : “ They  trust  to  our 
honor,”  as  East  proudly  informs  Tom ; “ they  know  very 
well  that  no  school-house  boy  would  cut  the  match.  If  he 
did,  we’d  very  soon  cut  him,  I can  tell  you.” 

The  master  of  the  week  being  short-sighted,  and  the  prae- 
postors of  the  week  small  and  not  well  up  to  their  work, 
the  lower  school  boys  employ  the  ten  minutes  which  elapse 
before  their  names  are  called,  in  pelting  one  another  vigor- 
ously with  acorns,  which  fly  about  in  all  directions.  The 
small  praepostors  dash  in  every  now  and  then,  and  gener- 
ally chastise  some  quiet,  timid  boy,  who  is  equally  afraid 
of  acorns  and  canes,  while  the  principal  performers  get 
dexterously  out  of  the  way ; and  so  calling-over  rolls  on 
somehow,  much  like  the  big  world,  punishments  lighting 
on  wrong  shoulders,  and  matters  going  generally  in  a queer, 
cross-grained  way,  but  the  end  coming  somehow,  which  is 
after  all  the  great  point.  And  now  the  master  of  the  week 
has  finished,  and  locked  up  the  big  school ; and  the  prae- 
postors of  the  week  come  out,  sweeping  the  last  remnant 
of  the  school  fags — who  have  been  loafing  about  the  cor- 
ners by  the  fives’-court,  in  hopes  of  a chance  of  bolting — 
before  them  into  the  close. 

“ Hold  the  punt-about ! ” “ To  the  goals  ! ” are  the 

cries,  and  all  stray  balls  are  impounded  by  the  authorities : 
and  the  whole  mass  of  boys  moves  up  toward  the  two  goals, 
dividing  as  they  go  into  three  bodies.  That  little  band  on 
the  left,  consisting  of  from  fifteen  to  twenty  boys,  Tom 
among  them,  who  are  making  for  the  goal  under  the  school- 
house  wall,  are  the  school-house  boys  who  are  not  to  play-up, 
and  have  to  stay  in  goal.  The  larger  body  moving  to  the 
island  goal,  are  the  school-boys  in  a like  predicament.  The 
great  mass  in  the  middle  are  the  players-up,  both  sides 
mingled  together;  they  are  hanging  their  jackets,  and  all 
who  mean  real  work,  their  hats,  waistcoats,  neck-handker- 
chief, and  braces,  on  the  raillings  round  the  small  trees  ; and 
there  they  go  by  twos  and  threes  up  to  their  respective 
grounds.  There  is  none  of  the  color  or  tastiness  of  get-up, 
you  will  perceive,  which  lends  such  a life  to  the  present 
game  at  Rugby,  making  the  dullest  and  worst  fought  match 
a pretty  sight.  Now  each  house  has  its  own  uniform  of  cap 
and  jersey,  of  some  lively  color ; but  at  the  time  we  are  speak- 
ing of,  plush  caps  had  not  yet  come  in,  or  uniforms  of  any 


RUGBY  AND  FOOTBALL. 


85 


sort,  except  the  school-house  white  trousers,  which  are  abom- 
inably cold  to  day  : let  us  get  to  work,  bare-headed  and 
girded  with  our  plain  leather  straps — but  we  mean  busi- 
ness, gentlemen. 

And  now  that  the  two  sides  have  fairly  sundered  and 
each  occupies  its  own  ground,  and  we  get  a good  lei  k at 
them,  what  absurdity  is  this?  You  don’t  mean  to  say  that 
those  fifty  or  sixty  boys  in  white  trousers,  many  of  them 
quite  small,  are  going  to  play  that  huge  mass  opposite  ? 
Indeed  I do,  gentlemen ; they’re  going  to  try  at  any  rate, 
and  won’t  make  such  a bad  fight  of  it  either,  mark  my  word ; 
for  hasn’t  old  Brooke  won  the  toss,  with  his  lucky  half- 
penny, and  got  choice  of  goals  and  kick-off  ? The  new  ball 
you  may  see  lie  there  quite  by  itself,  in  the  middle,  point- 
ing toward  the  school  or  island  goal  ; in  another  minute  it 
will  be  well  on  its  way  there.  Use  that  minute  in  remark- 
ing how  the  school-house  side  is  drilled.  You  will  see  in 
the  first  place,  that  the  sixth-form  boy,  who  has  the  charge 
of  goal,  has  spread  his  force  (the  goal-keepers)  so  as  to 
occupy  the  whole  space  behind  the  goal-posts,  at  distance 
of  about  five  yards  apart : a safe  and  well-kept  goal  is  the 
foundation  of  all  good  play.  Old  Brooke  is  talking  to  the 
captain  of  quarters  ; and  now  he  moves  away  ; see  how  that 
youngter  spreads  his  men  (the  light  brigade)  carefully 
over  the  ground,  half-way  between  their  own  goal  and  the 
body  of  their  own  players-up  (the  heavy  brigade).  These 
again  play  in  several  bodies : there  is  young  Brooke  and 
the  bull-dogs — mark  them  well — they  are  the  “ fighting 
brigade,”  the  “die-hards,”  larking  about  at  leap-frcg  to 
keep  themselves  warm  and  playing  tricks  on  one  another. 
And  on  each  side  of  old  Brooke,  who  is  now  standing  in 
the  middle  of  the  ground  and  just  going  to  kick  off,  you 
see  a separate  wing  of  players-up,  each  with  a boy  of  ac- 
knowledged prowess  to  look  to — here  Warner,  and  there 
Hedge  ; but  over  all  is  old  Brooke,  absolute  as  he  of  Russia, 
but  wisely  and  bravely  ruling  over  willing  and  worshiping 
subjects,  a true  football  king.  His  face  is  earnest  and  care- 
ful as  he  glances  a last  time  over  his  array,  but  full  of 
pluck  and  hope,  the  sort  of  look  I hope  to  see  in  my  general 
when  I go  out  to  fight. 

The  school  side  is  not  organized  in  the  same  way.  The 
goal-keepers  are  all  in  lumps,  anyhow  and  nohow  ; you 


80 


TOM  BBOWN'S  SCHOOL-BAYS . 


can't  distingish  between  the  players-up  and  the  boys  in 
quarters,  and  there  is  divided  leadership;  but  with  such 
odds  in  strength  and  weight  it  must  take  more  than  that 
to  hinder  them  from  winning ; and  so  their  leaders  seem  to 
think,  for  they  let  the  players-up  manage  themselves. 

But  now  look,  there  is  a slight  move  forward  of  the 
school-house  wings ; a shout  of  “ Are  you  ready?”  and 
loud  affirmative  reply.  Old  Brooke  takes  half-a-dozen 
quick  steps,  and  away  goes  the  ball  spinning  toward  the 
school  goal ; seventy  yards  before  it  touches  ground,  and 
at  no  point  above  twelve  or  fifteen  feet  high,  a model  kick- 
off; and  the  school-house  cheer  and  rush  on  ; the  ball  is 
returned,  and  they  meet  it  and  drive  it  back  among  the 
masses  of  the  school  already  in  motion.  Then  the  two 
sides  close,  and  you  can  see  nc thing  for  minutes  but  a 
swaying  crowd  of  boys,  at  one  point  violently  agitated. 
That  is  where  the  ball  is,  and  there  are  the  keen  players  to 
be  met,  and  the  glory  and  the  hard  knocks  to  be  got : you 
hear  the  dull  thud  thud  of  the  ball,  and  the  shouts  of  “ Off 
your  side,”  “ Down  with  him,”  “ Put  him  over,”  “ Bravo  ! ” 
This  is  what  we  call  a scrummage,  gentlemen,  and  the  first 
scrummage  in  a school-house  match  was  no  joke  in  the  con- 
sulship of  Plancus. 

But  see  ! it  has  broken  ; the  ball  is  driven  out  on  the 
school-house  side,  and  a rush  of  the  school  carries  it  past 
the  school-house  players-up.  u Look  out  in  quarters,” 
Brooke’s  and  twenty  other  voices  ring  out ; no  need  to 
call  though ; the  school-house  captain  of  quarters  has 
caught  it  on  the  bound,  dodges  the  foremost  school  boys, 
who  are  heading  the  rush,  and  sends  it  back  with  a good 
drop-kick  well  into  the  enemy’s  country.  And  then  follow 
rush  upon  rush,  and  scrummage  upon  scrummage,  the  ball 
now  driven  through  into  the  school-house  quarters,  and 
now  into  the  school  goal ; for  the  school-house  have  not 
lost  the  advantage  which  the  kick-off  and  a slight  wind 
gave  them  at  the  outset,  and  are  slightly  u penning  ” their 
adversaries.  You  say  you  don’t  see  much  in  it  all ; nothing 
but  a struggling  mass  of  boys,  and  a leather  ball,  which 
seems  to  excite  them  all  to  great  fury,  as  a red  rag  does  a 
bull.  My  dear  sir,  a battle  would  look  much  the  same  to 
you,  except  that  the  boys  would  be  men,  and  the  balls 
iron  ; but  a battle  would  be  worth  your  looking  at  for  all 


RUGBY  ANI)  FOOTBALL . 


87 


that,  and  so  is  a football  match.  You  can’t  be  expected  to 
appreciate  the  delicate  strokes  of  play,  the  turns  by  which 
a game  is  lost  and  won, — it  takes  an  old  player  to  do  that, 
but  the  broad  philosophy  of  football  you  can  understand  if 
you  will.  Come  along  with  me  a little  nearer,  and  let  us 
consider  it  together. 

The  ball  has  just  fallen  again  where  the  two  sides  are 
thickest,  and  they  close  rapidly  around  it  in  a scrummage  ; 
it  must  be  driven  through  now  by  force  or  skill,  till  it  flies 
out  on  one  side  or  the  other.  Look  how  differently  the 
boys  face  it!  Here  come  two  of  the  bulldogs,  bursting 
through  the  outsiders  ; in  they  go,  straight  to  the  heart  of 
the  scrummage,  bent  on  driving  that  ball  out  on  the  op- 
posite side.  That  is  what  they  mean  to  do.  My  sons,  my 
sons  ! you  are  too  hot ; you  have  gone  past  the  ball,  and 
must  struggle  now  right  through  the  scrummage,  and  get 
round  and  back  again  to  your  own  side,  before  you  can  be 
of  any  further  use.  Here  comes  young  Brooke  : he  goes  in 
as  straight  as  j^ou,  but  keeps  his  head,  and  backs  and  bends, 
holding  himself  still  behind  the  ball,  and  driving  it  furious- 
ly when  he  gets  the  chance.  Take  a leaf  out  of  his  book, 
you  young  chargers.  Here  comes  Speedicut,  and  Flash- 
man,  the  school-house  bully,  with  shouts  and  great  action. 
Won’t  you  two  come  up  to  young  Brooke,  after  locking  up, 
by  the  school-house  fire,  with  “Old  fellow,  wasn’t  that  just 
a splendid  scrummage  by  the  three  trees  ! ” But  he  knows 
you,  and  so  do  we.  You  don’t  really  want  to  drive  that 
ball  through  that  scrummage,  chancing  all  hurt  for  the 
glory  of  the  school-house — but  to  make  us  think  that’s 
what  you  want — a vastly  different  thing ; and  fellows  of 
your  kidney  will  never  go  through  more  than  the  skirts 
of  a scrummage,  where  it’s  all  push  and  no  kicking. 
We  respect  boys  who  keep  out  of  it,  and  don’t  sham  going 
in  ; but  you — we  had  rather  not  say  what  we  think  of  you. 

Then  the  boys  who  are  bending  and  watching  on  the 
outside,  mark  them — they  are  most  useful  players,  the 
dodgers ; who  seize  on  the  ball  the  moment  it  rolls  out 
from  among  the  chargers,  and  away  with  it  across  to  the 
opposite  goal ; they  seldom  go  into  the  scrummage,  but 
must  have  more  coolness  than  the  chargers ; as  endless  as 
are  boys’  characters,  so  are  their  ways  of  facing  or  not  fac- 
ing a scrummage  at  football* 


88 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS . 


Three-quarters  of  an  hour  are  gone  ; first  winds  are  fail- 
ing, and  weight  and  numbers  beginning  to  tell.  Yard  by 
yard  the  school-house  have  been  driven  back,  contesting 
every  inch  of  ground.  The  bull-dogs  are  the  color  of 
mother  earth  from  shoulder  to  ankle,  except  young  Brooke 
who  has  a marvelous  knack  of  keeping  his  legs.  The 
school-house  are  being  penned  in  their  turn,  and  now  the 
ball  is  behind  their  goal,  under  the  Doctor’s  wall.  The 
Doctor  and  some  of  his  family  are  there  looking  on,  and 
seem  as  anxious  as  any  boy  for  the  success  of  the  school- 
house.  We  get  a minute’s  breathing  time  before  old 
Brooke  kicks  out,  and  he  gives  the  word  to  play  strongly 
for  touch,  by  the  three  trees.  Away  goes  the  ball,  and 
the  bull-dogs  after  it,  and  in  another  minute  there  is  a 
shout  of  “In  touch,”  “ Our  ball.”  Now’s  your  time,  old 
Brooke,  while  your  men  are  still  fresh.  He  stands  with 
the  ball  in  his  hand,  while  the  two  sides  form  in  deep 
lines  opposite  one  another : he  must  strike  it  straight  out 
between  them.  The  lines  are  thickest  close  to  him,  but 
young  Brooke  and  two  or  three  of  his  men  are  shifting  up 
further,  where  the  opposite  line  is  weak.  Old  Brooke 
strikes  it  out  straight  and  strong,  and  it  falls  opposite  his 
brother.  Hurra!  that  rush  has  taken  it  right  through 
the  school  line,  and  away  past  the  three  trees,  far  in  to 
their  quarters,  and  young  Brooke  and  the  bull-dogs  are 
close  upon  it.  The  school  leaders  rush  back  shouting 
“ Look  out  in  goal,”  and  strain  every  nerve  to  catch  him, 
but  they  are  after  the  fleetest  foot  in  Rugby.  There  they 
go  straight  for  the  school  goal-posts,  quarters  scattering 
before  them.  One  after  another  ther  bull-dogs  go  down, 
but  young  Brooke  holds  on.  “ He  is  down  ! ” No  ! a 
long  stagger,  and  the  danger  is  past ; that  was  the  shock 
of  Crew,  the  most  dangerous  of  dodgers.  And  now  he  is 
close  to  the  school  goal,  the  ball  not  three  yards  before 
him.  There  is  a hurried  rush  of  the  school  fags  to  the 
spot,  but  no  one  throws  himself  on  the  ball,  the  only 
chance,  and  young  Brooke  has  touched  it  right  under  the 
school  goal-posts. 

The  school  leaders  come  up  furious,  and  administer 
toco  to  the  wretched  fags  nearest  at  hand : they  may  well 
be  angry,  for  it  is  all  Lombard  street  to  a china  orange 
that  the  school-house  kick  a goal  with  the  ball  touched  in 


RUGBY  AND  FOOTBALL . 


89 


such  a good  place.  Old  Brooke  of  course  will  kick  it  out, 
but  who  shall  catch  and  place  it?  Call  Crab  Jones.  Here 
he  comes,  sauntering  along  with  a straw  in  his  mouth,  the 
queerest,  coolest  fish  in  Rugby : if  he  were  tumbled  into 
the  moon  this  minute,  he  would  just  pick  himself  up  with- 
out taking  his  hands  out  of  his  pockets  or  turning  a hair. 
But  it  is  a moment  when  the  boldest  charger’s  heart  beats 
quick.  Old  Brooke  stands  with  the  ball  under  his  arm 
motioning  the  school  back  ; he  will  not  kick  out  until  they 
are  all  in  goal,  behind  the  posts ; they  are  all  edging  for- 
ward, inch  by  inch,  to  get  nearer  for  the  rush  at  Crab 
Jones,  who  stands  there  in  front  of  old  Brooke  to  catch 
the  ball.  If  they  can  reach  and  destroy  him  before  he 
catches,  the  danger  is  over ; and  with  one  and  the  same 
rush  they  will  carry  it  right  away  to  the  school-house  goal. 
Fond  hope  ! it  is  kicked  out  and  caught  beautifully.  Crab 
strikes  his  heel  into  the  ground,  to  mark  the  spot  where 
the  ball  was  caught,  beyond  which  the  school  line  may  not 
advance ; but  there  they  stand,  five  deep,  ready  to  rush  the 
moment  the  ball  touches  the  ground.  Take  plenty  of 
room  ! don’t  give  the  rush  a chance  of  reaching  you  ! place 
it  true  and  steady!  Trust  Crab  Jones — he  has  made  a 
small  hole  with  his  heel  for  the  ball  to  lie  on,  by  which  he 
is  resting  on  one  knee,  with  his  eye  on  old  Brooke. 
“Now!”  Crab  places  the  ball  at  the  word,  old  Brooke 
kicks,  and  it  rises  slowly  and  truly  as  the  school  rush  for- 
ward. 

Then  a moment’s  pause,  while  both  sides  look  up  at  the 
spinning  ball.  There  it  flies,  straight  between  the  two 
p >sts,  some  five  feet  above  the  cross-bar,  an  unquestioned 
goal ; and  a shout  of  real  genuine  joy  rings  out  from  the 
school-house  players-up,  and  a faint  echo  of  it  comes  over 
the  close  from  the  goal-keepers  under  the  Doctor’s  wall. 
A goal  in  the  first  hour — such  a thing  hasn’t  been  done  in 
the  school-house  match  this  five  years. 

“ Over ! ” is  the  cry  ; the  two  sides  change  goals,  and 
the  school-house  goal-keepers  come  threading  their  way 
across  through  the  masses  of  the  school;  the  most  openly 
triumphant  of  them,  among  whom  is  Tom,  a school-house 
boy  of  two  hours  standing,  getting  their  ears  boxed  in  the 
transit.  Tom  indeed  is  excited  beyond  measure,  and  it  is 
all  the  sixth-form  boy,  kindest  and  safest  of  goal-keepers, 


90 


TOM  BROWN’S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


has  been  able  to  do,  to  keep  him  from  rushing  out  when- 
ever the  ball  has  been  near  their  goal.  So  he  holds  him  by 
his  side,  and  instructs  him  in  the  science  of  touching. 

At  this  moment  Griffith,  the  itinerant  vender  of  oranges 
from  Hill  Morton,  enters  the  close  with  his  heavy  baskets ; 
there  is  a rush  of  small  boys  upon  the  little  pale-faced  man, 
the  two  sides  mingling  together,  subdued  by  the  great 
goddess  Thirst,  like  the  English  and  French  by  the  streams 
in  the  Pyrenees.  The  leaders  are  past  oranges  and  apples, 
but  some  of  them  visit  their  coats,  and  apply  innocent  look- 
ing  ginger-beer  bottles  to  their  mouths.  It  is  no  ginger- 
beer  though,  I fear,  and  will  do  you  no  good.  One  short 
mad  rush,  and  then  a stitch  in  the  side,  and  no  more  hon- 
est play  ; that’s  what  comes  of  those  bottles. 

But  now  Griffith’s  baskets  are  empty,  the  ball  is  placed 
again  midway,  and  the  school  are  going  to  kick  off.  Their 
leaders  have  sent  their  lumber  into  goal,  and  rated  the  rest 
soundly,  and  one  hundred  and  twenty  picked  players-up 
are  there,  bent  on  retrieving  the  game.  They  are  to  keep 
the  ball  in  front  of  the  school-house  goal,  and  then  to  drive 
it  in  by  sheer  strength  and  weight.  They  mean  heavy 
play  and  no  mistake,  and  so  old  Brooke  sees ; and  places 
Crab  J ones  in  quarters  just  before  the  goal,  with  four  or 
five  picked  players,  who  are  to  keep  the  ball  away  to  the 
sides,  where  a try  at  goal,  if  obtained,  will  be  less  dan- 
gerous than  in  front.  He  himself,  and  Warner  and  Hedge, 
who  have  saved  themselves  till  now,  will  lead  the  charges. 

“ Are  you  ready?  ” “ Yes.”  And  away  comes  the  ball 

kicked  high  in  the  air,  to  give  the  school  time  to  rush  on 
and  catch  it  as  it  falls.  And  here  they  are  among  us. 
Meet  them  like  Englishmen,  you  school-house  boys,  and 
charge  them  home.  Now  is  the  time  to  show  what  metal 
is  in  you — and  there  shall  be  a warm  seat  by  the  hall  fire, 
and  honor,  and  lots  of  bottled  beer  to-night,  for  him  who 
does  his  duty  in  the  next  half-hour.  And  they  are  well 
met.  Again  and  again  the  cloud  of  their  players-up 
gathers  before  our  goal,  and  comes  threatening  on  and 
Warner  or  Hedge,  with  young  Brooke  and  the  relics 
of  the  bull-dogs,  break  through  and  carry  the  ball  back  ; 
and  old  Brooke  ranges  the  field  like  Job’s  war-horse,  the 
thickest  scrummage  parts  asunder  before  his  rush,  like  the 
waves  before  a clipper’s  bows  ; his  cheery  voice  rings  over 


RUGBY  AND  FOOTBALL. 


91 


the  field,  and  his  eye  is  everywhere.  And  if  these  miss 
the  ball,  and  it  rolls  dangerously  in  front  of  our  goal, 
Crab  Jones  and  his  men  have  seized  it  and  sent  it  away 
toward  the  sides  with  the  unerring  drop-kick.  This  is 
worth  living  for ; the  whole  sum  of  school-boy  existence 
gathered  up  into  one  straining,  struggling  half-hour,  a half- 
hour  worth  a year  of  common  life. 

The  quarter  to  five  has  struck,  and  the  play  slackens  for  a 
minute  before  goal ; But  there  is  Crew,  the  artful  dodger, 
driving  the  ball  in  behind  our  goal,  on  the  island  side, 
where  our  quarters  are  weakest.  Is  there  no  one  to  meet 
him?  Yes  ! look  at  little  East ! the  ball  is  just  at  equal  dis- 
tances between  the  two,  and  they  rush  together,  the  young 
man  of  seventeen  and  the  boy  of  twelve,  and  kick  it  at  the 
same  moment.  Crew  passes  on  without  a stagger ; East 
is  hurled  forward  by  the  shock,  and  plunges  on  his  shoul- 
ders, as  if  he  would  bury  himself  in  the  ground ; but  the 
ball  rises  straight  into  the  air,  and  falls  behind  Crew’s  back, 
while  the  u bravos  ” of  the  school-house  attest  the  pluckiest 
charge  of  all  that  hard-fought  day.  Warner  picks  East 
up  lame  and  half  stunned,  and  lie  hobbles  back  into  goal, 
conscious  of  having  played  the  man. 

And  now  the  last  minutes  are  come,  and  the  school 
gather  for  their  last  rush  every  boy  of  the  hundred  and 
twenty  who  lias  a run  left  in  him.  Reckless  of  the  defense 
of  their  own  goal,  on  they  come  across  the  level  big-side 
ground,  the  ball  well  down  among  them,  straight  for  our 
goal,  like  the  column  of  the  Old  Guard  up  the  slope  at 
Waterloo.  All  former  charges  have  been  child’s  play  to 
this.  Warner  and  Hedge  have  met  them,  but  still  on  they 
come.  The  bull-dogs  rush  in  for  the  last  time  ; they  are 
hurled  over  or  carried  back,  striving  hand,  foot,  and  eye- 
lids. Old  Brooke  comes  sweeping  round  the  skirts  of  the 
play,  and,  turning  short  round,  picks  out  the  very  heart  of 
the  scrummage,  and  plunges  in.  It  wavers  for  a moment 
— he  has  the  ball!  No,  it  has  passed  him,  and  his  voice 
rings  out  clear  over  the  advancing  tide,  “ Look  out  in 
goal.”  Crab  Jones  catches  it  for  a moment ; but  before 
he  can  kick,  the  rush  is  upon  him  and  passes  over  him  ; 
and  he  picks  himself  up  behind  them  with  his  straw  in  his 
mouth,  a little  dirtier,  but  as  cool  as  ever. 

The  ball  rolls  slowly  in  behind  the  school-house  goal. 


92 


TOM  BROWN’S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


not  three  yards  in  front  of  a dozen  of  the  biggest  school 
players-up. 

There  stand  the  school-house  praepostor,  safest  of  goal- 
keepers and  Tom  Brown  by  his  side,  who  has  learned  his 
trade  by  this  time.  Now  is  your  time,  Tom.  The  blood 
of  all  the  Browns  is  up,  and  the  two  rush  in  together,  and 
throw  themselves  on  the  ball,  under  the  very  feet  of  the 
advancing  column;  the  praepostor  on  his  hands  and  knees 
arching  his  back,  and  Tom  all  along  on  his  face.  Over 
them  topple  the  leaders  of  the  rush,  shooting  over  the  back 
of  the  praepostor,  but  falling  Hat  on  Tom,  and  knocking  all 
the  wind  out  of  his  small  carcass.  “ Our  ball,”  says  the 
praepostor,  rising  with  his  prize;  “but  get  up  there, 
there’s  a little  fellow  under  you.”  They  are  hauled  and 
rolled  off  him,  and  Tom  is  discovered  a motionless  body. 

Old  Brooke  picks  him  up.  “Stand  back,  give  him  air,” 
he  says;  and  then  feeling  his  limbs,  adds,  “No  bones 
broken.  How  do  you  feel,  young  un  ? ” 

“ Hah-hah,”  gaps  Tom,  as  his  wind  comes  back,  “ pretty 
well,  thank  you — all  right.” 

“ Who  is  lie  ? ” says  Brooke.  “ Oh,  it’s  Brown  ; he’s  a 
new  boy;  I know  him,”  says  East,  coming  up. 

“ Well,  he  is  a plucky  youngster,  and  will  make  a play- 
er,” says  Brooke. 

And  five  o’clock  strikes.  “No  side  ” is  called,  and  the 
first  day  of  the  school-house  match  is  over. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

AFTER  THE  MATCH. 

Some  food  we  had. — Shakespeare . 

1]S  7 roros  advs — TllEOCR.  Id. 

As  the  boys  scattered  away  from  the  ground,  and  East 
leaning  on  Tom’s  arm,  and  iimping  along,  was  beginning 
to  consider  what  luxury  they  should  go  and  buy  for  tea  to 
celebrate  that  glorious  Victory,  the  two  Brookes  came  strid- 
ing by.  Old  Brooke  caught  sight  of  East,  and  stopped ; 
put  his  hand  kindly  on  his  shoulder  and  said,  “ Bravo, 
youngster,  you  played  famously ; not  much  the  matter,  I 
hope  ? ” 


AFTER  THE  MATCH . 


93 


“ No,  nothing  at  all,”  said  East,  44  only  a little  twist 
from  that  charge.” 

“ Well,  mind  and  get  all  right  for  next  Saturday ;”  and 
the  leader  passed  on,  leaving  East  better  for  those  few 
words  than  all  the  opodeldoc  in  England  would  have  made 
him,  and  Tom  ready  to  give  one  of  his  ears  for  as  much 
notice.  Ah  ! light  words  of  those  whom  we  love  and 
honor,  what  a power  ye  are,  and  how  carelessly  wielded  by 
those  who  can  use  you  ! Surely  for  these  things  also  God 
will  ask  an  account. 

“ Tea’s  directly  after  locking-up,  you  see,”  said  East, 
hobbling  along  as  fast  as  he  could,  “ so  you  come  along 
down  to  Sally  Harrowell’s ; that’s  our  school-house  tuck 
shop — she  bakes  such  stunning  murphies,  we’ll  have  a 
penn’orth  each  for  tea  ; come  along,  or  they’ll  all  be  gone.” 
Tom’s  new  purse  and  money  burnt  in  his  pocket;  he 
wondered,  as  they  toddled  through  the  quadrangle  and 
along  the  street,  whether  East  would  be  insulted  if  he 
suggested  further  extravagance,  as  he  had  not  sufficient 
faith  in  a pennyworth  of  potatoes.  At  last  he  blurted 
out, — 

“ I say,  East,  can’t  we  get  something  else  besides 
potatoes  ? I’ve  got  lots  of  money,  you  know.” 

“ Bless  us,  yes,  I forgot,”  said  East,  “you’ve  only  just 
come.  You  see  all  my  tin’s  been  gone  these  twelve  weeks, 
it  hardly  ever  lasts  beyond  the  first  fortnight  ; and  our 
allowances  were  all  stopped  this  morning  for  broken 
windows,  so  I haven’t  got  a penny.  I’ve  got  a tick  at 
Sally’s,  of  course  ; but  then  I hate  running  it  high,  you 
see,  toward  the  end  of  the  half,  ’cause  one  has  to  shell  out 
for  it  all  directly  one  comes  back,  and  that’s  a bore.” 

Tom  didn’t  understand  much  of  this  talk,  but  seized  on 
the  fact  that  East  had  no  money,  and  was  denying  himself 
some  little  pet  luxury  in  consequence.  “Well,  what  shall 
I buy  ? ” said  he  ; “ I’m  uncommon  hungry.” 

“ I say,”  said  East,  stopping  to  look  at  him  and  rest  his 
leg,  “ you’re  a trump,  Brown.  I’ll  do  the  same  by  you 
next  half.  Let’s  have  a pound  of  sausages,  then ; that’s 
the  best  grub  for  tea  I know  of.” 

“Very  well,”  said  Tom,  as  pleased  as  possible  ; “where 
do  they  sell  them  ? ” 

“ Oh,  over  here,  just  opposite ; ” and  they  crossed  the 


TOM  BROWN’S  SCHOOL-BAYS. 


street  and  walked  into  the  cleanest  little  front  room  of  a 
small  house,  half  parlor,  half  shop,  and  bought  a pound  of 
most  particular  sausages ; East  talking  pleasantly  to  Mrs. 
Porter  while  she  put  them  in  paper,  and  Tom  doing  the 
paying  part. 

From  Porter’s  they  adjourned  to  Sally  Harro well’s, 
where  they  found  a lot  of  school-house  boys  waiting  for 
the  roast  potatoes,  and  relating  their  own  exploits  in  the 
day’s  match  at  the  top  of  their  voices.  The  street  opened 
at  once  into  Sally’s  kitchen,  a low,  brick-floored  room,  with 
large  recess  for  fire,  and  chimney-corner  seats.  Poor 
little  Sally,  the  most  good-natured  and  much  enduring  of 
womankind,  was  bustling  about  with  a napkin  in  her  hand, 
from  her  own  oven  to  those  of  the  neighbors’  cottages,  up 
the  yard  at  the  back  of  the  house.  Stumps,  her  husband, 
a short,  easy-going  shoemaker,  with  a beery  humorous  eye 
and  ponderous  calves,  who  lived  mostly  on  his  wife’s  earn- 
ings, stood  in  a corner  of  the  room,  exchanging  shots  of 
the  roughest  description  of  repartee  with  every  boy  in  turn. 
“ Stumps,  you  lout,  you’ve  had  too  much  beer  again  to-day.’ 
“’Twasn’t  of  your  paying  for,  then.” — “Stumps’s  calves 
are  running  down  into  his  ankles,  they  wont  to  get  grass.” 
“better  be  doing  that,  than  gone  altogether  like  yours,” 
etc.,  etc.  Very  poor  stuff  it  was  but  it  served  to  make 
time  pass ; and  every  now  and  then  Sally  arrived  in  the 
middle  with  a smoking  tin  of  potatoes,  which  were  cleared 
off  in  a few  seconds,  each  boy  as  he  seized  his  lot  running 
off  to  the  house  with  “ Put  me  down  two-penn’orth,  Sally  ; ” 
“ Put  down  three-peniforth  between  me  and  Davis,”  etc. 
How  she  ever  kept  the  accounts  so  straight  as  she  did,  in 
her  head  and  on  her  slate,  was  a perfect  wonder. 

East  and  Tom  got  served  at  last,  and  started  back  for  the 
school-house  just  as  the  locking-up  bell  began  to  ring  ; East 
on  the  way  recounting  the  life  and  adventures  of  Stumps, 
who  was  a character.  Among  his  other  small  avocations, 
he  was  the  hind  carrier  of  a sedan-chair,  the  last  of  its  race, 
in  which  the  Rugby  ladies  still  went  out  to  tea,  and  in 
which,  when  he  was  fairly  harnessed  and  carrying  a load, 
it  was  the  delight  of  small  and  mischievous  boys  to  follow 
him  and  whip  his  calves.  This  was  too  much  for  the 
temper  even  of  Stumps,  and  he  would  pursue  his  tormentors 
in  a vindictive  and  apoplectic  manner  when  released,  but 
was  easily  pacified  by  twopence  to  buy  beer  with. 


AFTER  THE  MATCH . 


95 


The  lower  school-boys  of  the  school-house,  some  fifteen 
in  number,  had  tea  in  the  lower-fifth  school,  and  were  pre- 
sided over  by  the  old  verger  or  head-porter.  Each  boy  had 
a quarter  of  a loaf  of  bread  and  a pat  of  butter,  and  as 
much  tea  as  he  pleased ; and  there  was  scarcely  one  who 
didn’t  add  to  this  some  further  luxury,  such  as  baked  pota- 
toes, a herring,  sprats,  or  something  of  the  sort ; but  few, 
at  this  period  of  the  half-year,  could  live  up  to  a pound  of 
Porter’s  sausages,  and  East  was  in  great  magnificence  upon 
the  strength  of  theirs.  He  had  produced  a toasting-fork 
from  his  study,  and  set  Tom  to  toast  the  sausages,  while  he 
mounted  guard  over  their  butter  and  potatoes  ; “’cause,” 
as  he  explained,  “ you’re  a new  boy  and  they’ll  play  you 
some  trick  and  get  our  butter,  but  you  can  toast  just  as 
well  as  I.”  So  Tom,  in  the  midst  of  three  or  four  more 
urchins  similarly  employed,  toasted  his  face  and  the  saus- 
ages at  the  same  time  before  the  huge  fire,  till  the  latter 
cracked  ; when  East  from  his  watch-tower  shouted  that  they 
were  done  ; and  then  the  feast  proceeded,  and  the  festive  cups 
of  tea  were  filled  and  emptied,  and  Tom  imparted  of  the 
sausages  in  small  bits  to  many  neighbors,  and  thought  he 
had  never  tasted  such  good  potatoes  or  seen  such  jolly 
boys.  They  on  their  parts  waived  all  ceremony,  and  pegged 
away  at  the  sausages  and  potatoes,  and,  remembering  Tom’s 
performance  in  goal,  voted  East’s  new  crony  a brick. 
After  tea,  and  while  the  things  were  being  cleared  away, 
they  gathered  round  the  fire,  and  the  talk  on  the  match 
still  went  on  ; and  those  who  had  them  to  show,  pulled  up 
their  trousers  and  showed  the  hacks  they  had  received  in 
the  good  cause. 

They  were  soon,  however,  all  turned  out  of  the  school, 
and  East  conducted  Tom  up  to  his  bedroom,  that  he  might 
get  on  clean  things  and  wash  himself  before  singing. 

“What’s  singing?”  said  Tom,  taking  his  head  out  of 
his  basin,  where  he  had  been  plunging  it  in  cold  water. 

“ Well,  you  are  jolly  green,”  answered  his  friend  from  a 
neighboring  basin.  “ Why,  the  last  six  Saturdays  of  every 
half  we  sing  of  course ; and  this  is  the  first  of  them.  No 
first  lesson  to  do,  you  know,  and  lie  in  bed  to-morrow 
morning.” 

“ But  who  sings  ? ” 

“Why  everybody,  of  course;  you’ll  see  soon  enough. 


BBOWN’S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


9(1 

Wc  begin  directly  after  supper,  and  sing  till  bed-time.  It 
ain’t  such  good  fun  now,  though,  as  in  the  summer  half, 
’cause  then  we  sing  in  the  little  fives’-court,  under  the 
library,  you  know.  We  take  our  tables,  and  the  big  boys 
sit  round,  and  drink  beer ; double  allowance  on  Saturday 
nights ; and  we  cut  about  the  quadrangle  between  the 
songs,  and  it  looks  like  a lot  of  robbers  in  a cave.  And  the 
louts  come  and  pound  at  the  great  gates,  and  we  pound 
back  again,  and  shout  at  them.  But  this  half  we  only  sing 
in  the  hall.  Come  along  down  to  my  study.” 

Their  principal  employment  in  the  study  was  to  clear 
out  East’s  table,  removing  the  drawers  and  ornaments  and 
tablecloth ; for  he  lived  in  the  bottom  passage,  and  his 
table  was  in  requisition  for  the  singing. 

Supper  came  in  due  course  at  seven  o’clock,  consisting 
of  bread  and  cheese  and  beer,  which  was  all  saved  for  the 
singing;  and  directly  afterward  the  fags  went  to  work  to 
prepare  the  hall.  The  school-house  hall,  as  has  been  said, 
is  a great  long  high  room,  with  two  large  fires  on  one  side, 
and  two  large  iron-bound  tables,  one  running  down  the 
middle,  and  the  other  along  the  Avail  opposite  the  fire- 
places. Around  the  upper  fire  the  fags  placed  the  tables 
in  the  form  of  a horse-shoe,  and  upon  them  the  jugs  with 
the  Saturday  night’s  allowance  of  beer.  Then  the  big  boys 
used  to  drop  in  and  take  their  seats,  bringing  with  them 
bottled-beer  and  song-books  ; for  although  they  all  knew 
the  songs  by  heart  it  was  the  thing  to  have  an  old  manu- 
script book  descended  from  some  departed  hero,  in  which 
they  Avere  all  carefully  Avritten  out. 

The  sixth-form  boys  had  not  yet  appeared ; so,  to  fill  up 
the  gap,  an  interesting  and  time-honored  ceremony  Avas 
gone  through.  Each  new  boy  is  placed  on  the  table  in 
turn,  and  made  to  sing  a solo,  under  the  penalty  of  drink- 
ing a large  mug  of  salt  and  Avater  if  he  resisted  or  broke 
doAvn.  HoAvever,  the  neAV  boys  all  sing  like  nightingales 
to-night,  and  the  salt  Avater  is  not  in  requisition;  Tom,  as 
his  part,  performing  the  old  Avest-country  song  of  “ The 
Leather  Bottel  ” Avith  considerable  applause.  And  at  the 
half  hour  doAvn  come  the  sixth  and  fifth-form  boys,  and 
take  their  places  at  the  tables,  Avliich  are  filled  up  by  the 
next  biggest  boys,  the  rest,  for  Avhorn  there  is  no  room  at  the 
table,  standing  round  outside.  . . - * 


AFTER  THE  MATCH. 


97 


The  glasses  and  mugs  are  filled,  and  then  the  fugleman 
strikes  up  the  old  sea  song — 

A wet  sheet  and  a flowing  sea, 

And  a wind  that  follows  fast,  etc. 

which  is  the  invariable  first  song  in  the  school-house,  and 
all  the  seventy  voices  join  in,  not  mindful  of  harmony,  but 
bent  on  noise,  which  they  attain  decidedly  ; but  the  general 
effect  isn’t  bad.  And  then  follow  the  “ British  Grena- 
diers.” “ Billy  Taylor.”  “The  Siege  of  Seringapatam,” 

“ Three  Jolly  Postboys,”  and  other  vociferous  songs  in 
rapid  succession,  including  the  “ Chesapeake  and  Shannon,” 
a song  lately  introduced  in  honor  of  old  Brooke  ; and  when 
they  come  to  the  words — 

Brave  Brooke  he  waved  his  sword,  crying,  Now  my  lads,  aboard, 

At  ' we’ll  stop  their  playing  Yankee-doodle-dandy  oh  ! 

you  expect  the  roof  to  come  down.  The  sixth  and  fifty 
know  that  “brave  Brooke  ” of  the  Shannon  was  no  sort  of 
relation  to  our  old  Brooke.  The  fourth-form  are  uncertain 
in  their  belief,  but  for  the  most  part  hold  that  old  Brooke 
was  a midshipman  then  on  board  his  uncle’s  ship.  And 
the  lower  school  never  doubt  for  a moment  that  it  was  our 
old  Brooke  who  led  the  boarders,  in  what  capacity  they 
care  not  a straw.  During  the  pauses  the  bottled-beer  corks 
fly  rapidly,  and  the  talk  is  fast  and  merry,  and  the  big  boys, 
at  least  all  of  them  who  have  a fellow-feeling  for  dry  throats, 
hand  their  mugs  over  their  shoulders  to  be  emptied  by  the 
small  ones  who  stand  round  behind. 

Then  Warner,  the  head  of  the  house,  gets  up  and  wants 
to  speak,  but  he  can’t,  for  every  boy  knows  what’s  coming : 
and  the  big  boys  who  sit  at  the  tables  pound  them  and 
cheer ; and  the  small  boys  who  stand  behind  pound  one 
another,  and  cheer,  and  rush  about  the  hall  cheering. 
Then  silence  . being  made,  Warner  reminds  them  of  the 
old  school-house  custom  of  drinking  the  healths,  on  the 
first  night  of  singing,  of  those  who  are  going  to  leave  at 
the  end  of  the  half.  “ He  sees  that  they  know  what  he 
is  going  to  say  already — (loud  cheers)— and  so  won’t  keep 
them,  but  only  asks  them,  to  treat  the  toast  as  it  deserves. 
It  is  the  head  of  the  eleven,  the  head  of  big-side  foot- 


TOM  BROWNS  SCEOOL-BATS. 


ball,  their  leader  on  this  glorious  day — Pater  Brooke  ! ” 

And  away  goes  the  pounding  and  cheering  again, 
becoming  deafening  when  old  Brooke  gets  on  his  legs : 
till  d table  having  broken  down,  and  a gallon  or  so  of 
beer  been  upset,  and  all  throats  getting  dry,  silence 
ensues,  and  the  hero  speaks,  leaning  his  hands  on  the 
table,  and  bending  a little  forward.  No  action,  no  tricks 
of  oratory ; plain,  strong  and  straight,  like  his  play. 

“ Gentlemen  of  the  school-house ! I am  very  proud 
of  the  way  in  which  you  have  received  my  name,  and  I 
wish  I could  say  all  I should  like  to  in  return.  But  I 
know  I sha’n’t.  However,  I’ll  do  the  best  I can  to  say 
what  seems  to  me  ought  to  be  said  by  a fellow  who’s  just 
going  to  leave,  and  who  has  spent  a good  slice  of  his  life 
here.  Eight  years  it  is,  and  eight  such  years  as  I can 
never  hope  to  have  again.  So  now  I hope  you’ll  all  listen 
to  me — (loud  cheers  of  4 that  we  will  ’) — for  I’m  going  to 
talk  seriously.  You’re  bound  to  listen  tome;  for  what’s 
the  use  of  calling  me  ‘paterf  and  all  that,  if  you  don’t 
mind  what  I say?  And  I’m  going  to  talk  seriously 
because  I feel  so.  It’s  a jolly  time,  too,  getting  to  the  end 
of  the  half,  and  a goal  kicked  by  us  first  day — (tremendous 
applause) — after  one  of  the  hardest  and  fiercest  day’s  play 
I can  remember  in  eight  years — (frantic  shoutings). 
The  school  played  splendidly,  too,  I will  say,  and  kept  it 
up  to  the  last.  That  last  charge  of  theirs  would  have 
carried  away  a house.  1 never  thought  to  see  anything 
again  of  old  Crab  there,  except  little  pieces,  when  I saw 
him  tumbled  over  by  it — (laughter  and  shouting,  and  great 
slapping  on  the  back  of  Jones  by  the  boys  nearest  him). 
Well,  but  we  beat  ’em — (cheers).  Aye,  but  why  did  we 
beat  ’em?  Answer  me  that — (shouts  of  ‘your  play’). 
Nonsense  ! ’Twasn’t  the  wind  and  kick-off  either — that 
wouldn’t  do  it.  Twasn’t  because  we’ve  half-a-dozen  of  the 
best  players  in  the  school,  as  we  have.  I wouldn’t  change 
Warner,  and  Hedge,  and  Crab,  and  the  young  un,  for  any 
six  on  their  side  — (violent  cheers).  But  half-a-dozen 
fellows  can’t  keep  it  up  for  two  hours  against  two  hundred. 
Why  is  it,  then  ? I’ll  tell  you  what  I think.  It’s  because 
we’ve  more  reliance  on  one  another,  more  of  a house 
feeling,  more  fellowship  than  the  school  can  have.  Each 
of  us  knows  and  can  depend  on  his  next  hand  man  bet- 


99 


ter — that’s  why  we  beat  ’em  to-day.  We  ve  union,  they’ve 
divisions — there’s  the  secret — (^cheers).  But  how  is  this 
to  be  kept  up?  How’s  it  to  be  improved?  That’s  the 
queston.  Fori  take  it,  we’re  all  in  earnest  about  beating 
the  school,  whatever  else  we  care  about.  I know  I’d 
sooner  win  two  school-house  matches  running  than  get 
the  Balliol  scholarship  any  day — (frantic  cheers), 

“ Now  I’m  as  proud  of  the  house  as  any  one.  1 believe 
it’s  the  best  house  in  the  school,  out-and-out — (cheers). 
But  it  is  a long  way  from  what  I want  to  see  it.  First 
there’s  a deal  of  bullying  going  on.  I know  it  well.  I don’t 
pray  about  and  interfere  ; that  only  makes  it  more  under- 
hand, and  encourages  the  small  boys  to  come  to  us  with 
their  fingers  in  their  eyes  telling  tales,  and  so  we  should 
be  worse  off  than  ever.  It’s  very  little  kindness  for  the 
sixth  to  meddle  generally — jtou  youngsters,  mind  that. 
You’ll  be  all  the  better  foot-ball  players  for  learning  to  stand 
it  and  to  take  your  own  parts,  and  fight  it  through.  But 
depend  on  it,  there’s  nothing  breaks  up  a house  like  bully- 
ing. Bullies  are  cowards,  and  one  coward  makes  many  ; so 
good-bye  to  the  school-house  match  if  bullying  gets  ahead 
here.  (Loud  anplause  from  the  small  boys,  who  look 
meaningly  at  Flash  man  and  other  boys  at  the  tables.) 
Then  there’s  fuddling  about  in  the  public  houses,  and 
drinking  bad  spirits,  and  punch,  and  such  rotgut  stuff. 
That  won’t  make  good  drop-kicks  or  chargers  of  you,  take 
my  word  for  it.  You  get  plenty  of  good  beer  here,  and 
that  is  enough  for  j^ou ; and  drinking  isn’t  fine  or  manly, 
whatever  some  of  you  may  think  of  it. 

One  other  thing  I must  have  a word  about.  A lot  of 
you  think  and  say,  for  I’ve  heard  you.  4 There’s  this  new 
Doctor  hasn’t  been  here  so  long  as  some  of  us,  and  he’s  chang- 
all  the  old  customs.  Rugby,  and  the  school-house  espe- 
cially, are  going  to  the  dogs.  Stand  up  for  the  good  old 
ways,  and  down  with  the  Doctor  ! ’ Now  I’m  as  fond  of 
old  Rugby  customs  and  ways  as  any  of  you,  and  I’ve  been 
here  longer  than  any  of  you,  and  I’ll  give  you  a word, 
of  advice  in  time,  for  I shouldn’t  like  to  see  any  of  you  getting 
sacked.  4 Down  with  the  Doctor ! ’ is  easier  said  than  done. 
You’ll  find  him  pretty  tight  on  his  perch,  I take  it,  and 
an  awkwardish  customer  to  handle  in  that  line.  Besides, 
now,  what  customs  has  he  put  down?  There  was  the 


100 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS . 


good  old  custom  of  taking  the  linch-pins  out  of  the  farmers’ 
and  bagmen’s  gigs  at  the  fairs,  and  a cowardly  black- 
guard custom  it  was.  We  all  know  what  came  of  it  ; and 
no  wonder  the  Doctor  objected  to  it.  But,  come  now,  any 
of  you,  name  a custom  that  he  has  put  down/’ 

“ The  hounds,”  calls  out  a fifth-form  boy,  clad  in  a green 
cutaway  with  brass  buttons  and  cord  trousers,  the  leader  of 
the  sporting  interest,  and  reputed  a great  rider  and  keen 
hand  generally. 

“ Well,  we  had  six  or  seven  mangy  harriers  and  beagles 
belonging  to  the  house,  I’ll  allow,  and  had  had  them  for 
years,  and  that  the  Doctor  put  them  down.  But  what 
good  ever  came  of  them?  Only  rows  with  all  the  keepers 
for  ten  miles  round:  and  big-side  hare  and  hounds  is  better 
fun  ten  times  over.  What  else?” 

No  answer. 

“Well  I won’t  go  on.  Think  it  over  for  yourselves : 
you’ll  find,  I believe,  that  he  don’t  meddle  with  any  one 
that’s  worth  keeping.  And  mind  now,  I say  again,  look 
out  for  squalls,  if  you  will  go  your  own  way,  and  that 
way  ain’t  the  Doctor’s,  for  it’ll  lead  to  grief.  You  all  know 
that  I’m  not  the  fellow  to  back  a master  through  thick  and 
thin.  If  I saw  him  stopping  football,  or  cricket,  or  bath- 
ing or  sparring,  I’d  be  as  ready  as  any  fellow  to  stand  up 
about  it.  But  he  don’t — he  encourages  them  : didn’t  you 
see  him  out  to-day  for  half  an  hour  watching  us  ? (loud  cheers 
for  the  Doctor ;)  and  lie’s  a strong  true  man,  and  a wise  one, 
too,  and  a public-school  man  too.  (Cheers.)  And  so  let’s 
stick  to  him,  and  talk  no  more  rot,  and  drink  his  health  as 
the  head  of  the  house.  (Loud  cheers.)  And  now  I’ve 
done  blowing  up,  and  very  glad  I am  to  have  done.  But 
it’s  a solemn  thing  to  be  thinking  of  leaving  a place  which 
one  has  lived  in  and  loved  for  eight  years  ; and  if  one  can 
say  a word  for  the  good  of  the  old  house  at  such  a time, 
why,  it  should  be  said,  whether  bitter  or  sweet.  If  I hadn’t 
been  proud  of  the  house  and  you— aye,  no  one  knows  how 
proud— 'T  shouldn’t  be  blowing  you  up.  And  now  let’s  get 
to  singing.  But  before  I sit  down  I must  give  you  a toast 
to  be  drunk  with  three-times-three  and  all  the  honors.  It’s 
a toast  which  I hope  every  one  of  us,  wherever  lie  may  go 
hereafter,  /will  never  fail  to  drink  when  he  thinks  of  the 
brave  bright  days  of  his  boyhood.  It’s  a toast  which  should 


AFTER  THE  MAI  C II. 


101 


bind  us  all  together,  and  to  those  who’ve  gone  before 
and  who’ll  come  after  us  here.  It  is  the  dear  old  school- 
house — the  best  house  of  the  best  school  in  England  ! ” 

My  dear  boys,  old  and  young,  you  who  have  belonged,  or 
d > belong  to  others  schools  and  other  houses,  don’t  begin 
throwing  my  poor  little  book  about  the  room,  and  abusing 
me  and  it,  and  vowing  you’ll  read  no  more  when  you  get  to 
this  point.  I allow  you’ve  provocation  for  it.  But,  come 
now — would  you,  any  of  you,  give  a fig  for  a fellow  who 
did’nt  believe  in,  and  stand  up  for  his  own  house  and  his 
own  school  ? You  know  you  wouldn’t.  Then  don't  object 
to  my  cracking  up  the  old  school-house,  Rugby.  Haven’t 
I a right  to  do  it,  when  I’m  taking  all  the  trouble  of  writ- 
ing this  true  history  for  all  your  benefits  ? If  you  ain’t 
satisfied,  go  and  write  the  history  of  your  own  houses  in 
your  own  times  and  say  all  you  know  for  your  own  schools 
and  houses,  provided  it’s  true,  and  I’ll  read  it  without 
abusing  you. 

The  last  few  words  hit  the  audience  in  their  weakest 
place ; they  had  been  not  altogether  enthusiastic  at  several 
parts  of  old  Brooke’s  speech ; but  “ the  best  house  of  the 
best  school  in  England  ” was  too  much  for  them  all,  and 
carried  even  the  sporting  and  drinking  interest  off  their 
legs  into  rapturous  applause,  and  (it  is  to  be  hoped)  reso- 
lutions to  lead  a new  life  and  remember  oldBrooke’s  words; 
which,  however,  they  didn’t  altogether  do,  as  will  appear 
hereafter. 

But  it  required  all  oldBrooke’s  popularity  to  carry  down 
parts  of  his  speech  ; especially  that  relating  to  the  Doctor. 
For  there  are  no  such  bigoted  holders  by  established  forms 
and  customs,  be  they  never  so  foolish  or  meaningless,  as 
English  school-boys — at  least,  as  the  school-boy  of  our  gen- 
eration. We  magnified  into  heroes  every  boy  who  had 
left,  and  looked  upon  him  with  awe  and  reverence,  when 
he  revisited  the  place  a year  or  so  afterward,  on  his  way 
to  or  from  Oxford  or  Cambridge  ; and  happy  was  the  boy 
who  remembered  him,  and  sure  of  an  audience  as  he  ex- 
pounded what  he  used  to  do  and  say,  though  it  were  sad 
enough  stuff  to  make  angels  not  to  say  head-masters  weep. 

We  looked  upon  every  trumpery  little  custom  and  habit 
which  had  obtained  in  the  school  as  though  it  had  been  a 
law  of  the  Medes  and  Persians  and  regarded  the  infringe- 


102 


TOM  BROWN  ’ 8 SCHOOL-DA  YS. 


ment  or  variation  of  it  as  a sort  of  sacrilege.  And  the 
Doctor,  than  whom  no  man  or  boy  had  a stronger  liking 
for  old  school  customs  which  were  good  and  sensible,  had, 
as  has  already  been  hinted,  come  into  most  decided  colli- 
sion with  several  which  were  neither  the  one  nor  the  other. 
And  as  old  Brooke  had  said,  when  he  came  into  collision 
with  boys  or  customs,  there  was  nothing  for  them  but  to 
give  in  or  take  themselves  off ; because  what  he  said  had 
to  be  done,  and  no  mistake  about  it.  And  this  was  begin- 
ning to  be  pretty  clearly  understood ; the  boys  felt  that 
there  was  a strong  man  over  them,  who  would  have  things 
his  own  way ; and  hadn’t  yet  learned  that  he  was  a wise 
and  loving  man  also.  His  personal  character  and  influence 
had  not  had  time  to  make  itself  felt,  except  by  a very  few  of 
the  bigger  boys,  with  whom  he  came  more  directly  in  con- 
tact ; and  he  was  looked  upon  with  great  fear  and  dislike 
by  the  great  majority  even  of  his  own  house.  For  he  had 
found  school  and  school-house  in  a state'  of  monstrous 
license  and  misrule,  and  was  still  employed  in  the  necessary 
but  unpopular  work  of  setting  up  order  with  a strong 
hand. 

However,  as  has  been  said,  old  Brooke  triumphed  and 
the  boys  cheered  him  and  then  the  Doctor.  And  then 
more  songs  came,  and  the  healths  of  the  other  boys  about  to 
leave,  who  each  made  a speech,  one  flowery,  another  maud- 
lin, a third  prosy,  and  so  on,  which  are  not  necessary  to  be 
here  recorded. 

Half-past  nine  struck  in  the  middle  of  the  performance 
of  “ Auld  Lang  Syne,”  a most  obstreperous  proceeding ; 
during  which  there  was  an  immense  amount  of  standing 
with  one  foot  on  the  table,  knocking  mugs  together  and 
shaking  hands,  without  which  accompaniments  it  seems 
impossible  for  the  youth  of  Britain  to  take  part  in  that 
famous  old  song.  The  under-porter  of  the  school-house 
entered  during  the  performance,  bearing  five  or  six  long 
wooden  candlesticks,  with  lighted  dips  in  them,  which  he 
proceeded  to  stick  into  their  holes  in  such  part  of  the  great 
tables  as  he  could  get  at;  and  then  stood  outside  the 
ring  till  the  end  of  the  song,  when  he  was  hailed  with 
shouts. 

“ Bill,  you  old  muff,  the  half-hour  hasn’t  struck.”  44  Here, 
Bill,  drink  some  cocktail,”  44  Sing  us  a song,  old  boy,” 


AFTER  THE  MATCH. 


103 


4i Don’t  you  wish  you  may  get  the  table?”  Bill  drank 
the  proffered  cocktail  not  unwillingly,  and  putting  down 
the  empty  glass,  remonstrated,  44  Now,  gentlemen,  there’s 
only  ten  minutes  to  prayers,  and  we  must  get  the  hall 
straight.” 

44  Shouts  of  44  No,  no  ! ” and  a violent  effort  to  strike  up 
44  Billy  Taylor  ” for  the  third  time.  Bill  looked  appeal- 
ingly to  old  Brooke,  who  got  up  and  stopped  the  noise. 
44  Now  then,  lend  a hand,  you  youngsters,  and  get  the 
tables  back;  clear  away  the  jugs  and  glasses.  Bill’s  right. 
Open  the  windows,  Warner.”  The  boy  addressed,  who 
sat  by  the  long  ropes,  proceeded  to  pull  up  the  great  win- 
dows, and  let  in  a clear  fresh  rush  of  night  air,  which  made 
the  candles  flicker  and  gutter,  and  the  fires  roar.  The 
circle  broke  up,  each  collaring  his  own  jug,  glass,  and  song- 
book  ; Bill  pounced  on  the  big  table,  and  began  to  rattle 
it  away  to  its  place  outside  the  buttery-door.  The  lower- 
passage  boys  carried  off  their  small  tables,  aided  by  their 
friends,  while  above  all,  standing  on  the  great  hall-table,  a 
knot  of  untiring  sons  of  harmony  made  night  doleful  by  a 
prolonged  performance  of  44  God  save  the  King.”  His 
Majesty  King  William  IV.  then  reigned  over  us  a mon- 
arch deservedly  popular  among  the  boys  addicted  to 
melody,  to  whom  he  was  chiefly  known  from  the  beginning 
of  that  excellent,  if  slightly  vulgar,  song  in  which  they 
much  delighted — 

Come , neighbors  all,  both  great  and  small, 

Perform  your  duiies  here, 

Amd  loudly  sing  “ live  Billy  our  king, 

For  bating  the  tax  upon  beer.” 

Others  of  the  more  learned  in  songs  aiso  celebrated  his 
praises  in  a sort  of  ballad,  which  I take  to  have  been 
written  by  some  Irish  loyalist.  I have  forgotten  all  but 
the  chorus,  which  ran — 

God  save  our  good  King  William,  be  his  name  forever  blessed; 

He’s  the  father  of  all  his  people,  and  the  guardian  of  all  the  rest, 

In  troth,  we  were  loyal  subjects  in  those  days,  in  a rough 
way.  I trust  that  our  successors  make  as  much  of  her 
present  Majesty,  and  having  regard  to  the  greater  refine- 
ment of  the  times,  have  adopted  or  written  other  songs 
equally  hearty,  but  more  civilized,  in  her  honor. 


104  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-BAYS . 

Then  the  quarter  to  ten  struck,  and  the  prayer-bell 
rang.  The  sixth  and  fifth-form  boys  ranged  themselves  in 
their  school  order  along  the  wall,  on  either  side  of  the 
great  fires,  the  middle  fifth  and  upper-school  boys  round 
the  long  table  in  the  middle  of  the  hall,  and  the  lower- 
school  boys  round  the  upper  part  of  the  second  long  table, 
which  ran  down  the  side  of  the  hall  furthest  from  the 
fires.  Here  Tom  found  himself  at  the  bottom  of  all,  in  a 
state  of  mind  and  body  not  at  all  fit  for  prayers,  as  he 
thought;  and  so  tried  hard  to  make  himself  serious,  but 
couldn’t,  for  the  life  of  him,  do  anything  but  repeat  in  his 
head  the  choruses  of  some  of  the  songs,  and  stare  at  all 
the  boys  opposite,  wondering  at  the  brilliancy  of  their 
waistcoats,  and  speculating  what  sort  of  fellows  they  were. 
The  steps  of  the  head-porter  are  heard  on  the  stairs,  and  a 
light  gleams  at  the  door.  “Hush!”  from  the  fifth-form 
boys  who  stand  there,  and  then  in  strides  the  Doctor,  cap 
on  head,  book  in  one  hand,  and  gathering  up  his  gown  in 
the  other.  He  walks  up  the  middle,  and  takes  his  post  by 
Warner,  who  begins  calling  over  the  names.  The  Doctor 
takes  no  notice  of  anything,  but  quietly  turns  over  his 
book  and  finds  the  place,  and  then  stands,  cap  in  hand  and 
finger  in  book,  looking  straight  before  his  nose.  He  knows 
better  than  any  one  when  to  look,  and  when  to  see  noth- 
ing ; to-night  is  singing  night ; and  there’s  been  lots  of 
noise  and  no  harm  done ; nothing  but  beer  drunk,  and  no- 
body the  worse  for  it ; though  some  of  them  do  look  hot 
and  excited.  So  the  Doctor  sees  nothing,  but  fascinates 
Tom  in  a horrible  manner  as  he  stands  there,  and  reads 
out  the  psalm  in  that  deep,  ringing,  searching  voice  of  his. 
Prayers  are  over,  and  Tom  still  stares  open-mouthed  after 
the  Doctor’s  retiring  figure,  when  he  feels  a pull  at  his 
sleeve,  and  turning  around  sees  East. 

“I  say,  were  you  ever  tossed  in  a blanket?  ” 

“No,”  said  Tom;  “Why?” 

“ ’Cause  there’ll  be  tossing  to-night,  most  likely,  before 
the  sixth  come  up  to  bed.  So  if  you  funk,  you  just  come 
along  and  hide,  or  else  they’ll  catch  you  and  toss  you.” 
Were  you  ever  tossed?  Does  it  hurt?”  inquired 
Tom. 

“ Oh,  yes,  bless  you,  a dozen  times,”  said  East,  as  he 
hobbled  along  by  Tom’s  side  up-stairs.  “It  don’t  hurt 


AFTER  THE  MATCH. 


105 


unless  you  fall  on  the  floor.  But  most  fellows  don’t  like 
it.” 

They  stopped  at  the  fireplace  in  the  top  passage,  where 
were  a crowd  of  small  boys  whispering  together,  and  evi- 
dently ujn willing  to  go  up  into  the  bed-rooms.  In  a minute, 
however,  a study  door  opened,  and  a sixth-form  boy  came 
out,  and  off  they  all  scuttled  up  the  stairs,  and  then  noise- 
lessly dispersed  to  their  different  rooms.  Tom’s  heart 
beat  rather  quick  as  he  and  East  reached  their  room,  but 
he  had  made  up  his  mind.  “I  shan’t  hide,  East,”  said  he. 

“Very  well,  old  fellow,”  replied  East,  evidently  pleased, 
“ no  more  shall  I — they’ll  be  here  for  us  directly.” 

The  room  was  a great  big  one,  with  a dozen  beds  in  it, 
but  not  a boy  that  Tom  could  see,  except  East  and  himself. 
East  pulled  off  liis  coat  and  waistcoat,  and  then  sat  on  the 
bottom  of  his  bed,  whistling,  and  pulling  off  his  boots ; 
Tom  followed  his  example. 

A noise  and  steps  are  heard  in  the  passage,  the  door 
opens,  and  in  rush  four  or  five  great  fifth-form  boys,  headed 
by  Flashman  in  his  glory. 

Tom  and  East  slept  in  the  further  corner  of  the  room, 
and  were  not  seen  at  first. 

“ Gone  to  ground,  eh?”  roared  Flashman;  “push  ’em 
out  then,  boys  ! look  under  the  beds:”  and  he  pulled  up 
the  little  white  curtain  of  the  one  nearest  him.  “ Who-o- 
op,”  he  roared,  pulling  away  at  the  leg  of  a small  boy,  who 
held  on  tight  to  the  leg  of  the  bed,  and  sung  out  lustily  for 
mercy. 

“ Here,  lend  a hand,  one  of  you,  and  help  me  pull  out 
this  young  howling  brute.  Hold  your  tongue,  sir,  or  I’ll 
kill  you,” 

“Oh,  please,  Flashman,  please,  Walker,  don’t  toss  me? 
I’ll  fag  for  you,  I’ll  do  anything,  only  don’t  toss  me.” 

“ You  be  hanged,”  said  Flashman,  lugging  the  wretched 

boy  along,  “ ’twon’t  hurt  you, you!  Come  along,  boys, 

here  he  is.’ 

“ I say,  Flashy,”  sung  out  another  of  the  big  boys, 
“ drop  that;  you  heard  what  old  Pater  Brooke  said  to- 
night. I’ll  be  hanged  if  we’ll  toss  any  one  against  their 
will — no  more  bullying.  Let  him  go,  I say.” 

Flashman,  with  an  oath  and  a kick,  released  his  prey, 
who  rushed  headlong  under  his  bed  again,  for  fear  they 


106 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS . 


should  change  their  minds,  and  crept  along  underneath 
the  other  beds,  till  he  got  under  that  of  the  sixth-form 
boy,  which  he  knew  they  daren’t  disturb. 

“ There’s  plenty  of  youngsters  don’t  care  about  it,*’ 
said  Walker.  “Here,  here’s  Scud  East — you’ll  be  tossed, 
won’t  you,  young  un  ? ” Scud  was  East’s  nickname,  or 
Black,  as  we  called  it,  gained  by  his  fleetness  of  foot. 

“ Yes,”  said  East,  “ if  you  like,  only  mind  my  foot.” 

“And  here’s  another  who  didn’t  hide.  Hullo!  new 
boy  ; what’s  your  name,  sir  ?” 

“ Brown.” 

“Well,  Whitey Brown,  you  don’t  mind  being  tossed?” 

“ No,”  said  Tom,  setting  his  teeth. 

“ Come  along  then,  boys,”  sung  out  Walker ; and  away 
they  all  went,  carrying  along  Tom  and  East,  to  the  intense 
relief  of  four  or  five  other  small  boys,  who  crept  out  from 
under  the  beds  and  behind  them. 

“ What  a trump  Scud  is  ! ” said  one.  “ They  won’t  come 
back  here  now.” 

“ And  that  new  boy,  too  ; he  must  be  a good  plucked 
one.” 

“ Ah ! wait  till  he  has  been  tossed  on  to  the  floor  ; see 
how  he’ll  like  it  then  ! ” 

Meantime  the  procession  went  down  the  passage  to 
Number  7,  the  largest  room,  and  the  scene  of  tossing,  in 
the  middle  of  which  was  a great  open  space.  Here  they 
joined  other  parties  of  the  bigger  boys,  each  with  a captive 
or  two,  some  willing  to  be  tossed,  some  sullen,  and  some 
frightened  to  death.  At  Walker’s  suggestion,  all  who 
were  afraid  were  let  off,  in  honor  of  Pater  Brooke’s  speech. 

Then  a dozen  big  boys  seized  hold  of  a blanket  dragged 
from  one  of  the  beds.  “In  with  Scud,  quick!  there’s  no 
time  to  lose.”  East  was  chucked  into  the  blanket.  “ Once, 
twice,  thrice,  and  away  ; ” up  he  went  like  a shuttlecock, 
but  not  quite  up  to  the  ceiling. 

“Now,  boys,  with  a will,”  cried  Walker,  “ once,  twice, 
thrice,  and  away  ! ” This  time  he  went  clean  up,  and 
kept  himself  from  touching  the  ceiling  with  his  hand ; and 
so  again  a third  time,  when  he  was  turned  out,  and  up 
went  another  boy.  And  then  came  Tom’s  turn.  He  lay 
quite  still,  by  East’s  advice,  and  didn’t  dislike  the  “ once, 
twice,  thrice  ; ” but  the  “ away  ” wasn’t  so  pleasant.  They 


SETTLING  TO  THE  COLLAR. 


10' 


were  in  good  wind  now,  and  sent  him  slap  up  to  the  ceil- 
ing first  time,  against  which  his  knees  came  rather  sharply. 
But  the  moment’s  pause  before  descending  was  the  rub, 
the  feeling  of  utter  helplessness  and  of  leaving  his  whole 
inside  behind  him  sticking  to  the  ceiling.  Tom  was  very 
near  shouting  to  be  set  down,  when  he  found  himself  back 
in  the  blanket,  but  thought  of  East,  and  didn’t ; and  so 
took  his  three  tosses  without  a kick  or  a cry,  and  w.as 
called  a young  trump  for  his  pains. 

He  and  East,  having  earned  it,  stood  now  looking  on. 
No  catastrophe  happened,  as  all  the  captives  were  cool 
hands,  and  didn’t  struggle.  This  didn’t  suit  Flashman. 
What  your  real  bully  likes  in  tossing,  is  when  the  boys 
kick  and  struggle,  or  hold  on  to  one  side  of  the  blanket, 
and  so  get  pitched  bodily  on  to  the  floor;  it’s  no  fun  to 
him  when  no  one  is  hurt  or  frightened. 

“ Let’s  toss  two  of  them  together,  Walker,”  suggested  he. 

“ What  a cursed  bully  you  are,  Flashy  ! ” rejoined  the 
other.  u Up  with  another  one.” 

And  so  no  two  boys  were  tossed  together,  the  peculiar 
hardship  of  which  is,  that  it’s  too  much  for  human  nature 
to  lie  still  then  and  share  troubles  ; and  so  the  wretched 
pair  of  small  boys  struggle  in  the  air  which  shall  fall  a-top 
in  the  descent,  to  the  no  small  risk  of  both  falling  out  of 
the  blanket,  and  the  huge  delight  of  brutes  like  Flashman. 

But  now  there’s  a cry  that  the  praepostor  of  the  room  is 
coming ; so  the  tossing  stops,  and  all  scatter  to  their 
different  rooms:  and  Tom  is  left  to  turn  in,  with  the  first 
day’s  experience  of  a public  school  to  meditate  upon. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

SETTLING  TO  THE  COLLAR. 

Says  Giles,  “ ’Tis  mortal  hard  to  go  * 

But  if  so  he’s  I must, 

I means  to  follow  arter  he 
As  goes  hisself  the  fust.” — Ballad. 

Everybody,  I suppose,  knows  the  dreamy  delicious  state 
in  which  one  lies,  half  asleep,  half  awake,  while  conscious- 
ness begins  to  return,  after  a sound  night’s  rest  in  a new 
place  which  we  are  glad  to  be  in,  following  upon  a day  of 


108 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL- DA  YS. 


unwonted  excitement  and  exertion.  There  are  few  pleas- 
anter pieces  of  life.  The  worst  of  it  is  that  they  last  such 
a short  time  ; for,  nurse  them  as  you  will,  by  lying  per- 
fectly passive  in  mind  and  body,  you  can’t  make  more  than 
five  minutes  or  so  of  them.  After  which  time,  the  stupid, 
obtrusive,  wakeful  entity  which  we  call  “ I,”  as  impatient 
as  he  is  stiff-necked,  spite  of  our  teeth  will  force  himself 
back  again,  and  take  possession  of  us  down  to  our  very 
toes. 

It  was  in  this  state  that  Master  Tom  lay  at  half-past  seven 
on  the  morning  following  the  day  of  his  arrival,  and  from 
his  clean  little  white  bed  watched  the  movements  of  Bogle 
(the  generic  name  by  which  the  successive  shoeblacks  of 
the  school-house  were  known),  as  he  marched  round  from 
bed  to  bed,  collecting  the  dirty  shoes  and  boots,  and  de- 
positing clean  ones  in  their  places. 

There  he  lay,  half  doubtful  as  to  where  exactly  in  the 
universe  he  was,  but  conscious  that  he  had  made  a step  in 
life  which  he  had  been  anxious  to  make.  It  was  only  iust 
light  as  he  looked  lazily  out  of  the  wide  windows,  and  saw 
the  tops  of  the  great  elms,  and  the  rooks  circling  about, 
and  cawing  remonstrances  to  the  lazy  ones  of  their  com- 
monwealth, before  starting  in  a body  for  the  neighboring 
plowed  fields.  The  noise  of  the  room  door  closing  behind 
Bogle,  as  he  made  his  exit  with  the  shoe-basket  under  his 
arm,  roused  Tom  thoroughly,  and  he  sat  up  in  bed  and 
looked  round  the  room,  What  in  the  world  could  be  the 
matter  with  his  shoulders  and  loins?  He  felt  as  if  he  had 
been  severely  beaten  all  down  his  back,  the  natural  result 
of  his  performance  at  his  first  match.  He  drew  up  his 
knees  and  rested  his  chin  on  them,  and  went  over  all  the 
events  of  yesterday,  rejoicing  in  his  new  life,  what  he  had 
seen  of  it,  and  all  that  was  to  come. 

Presently  one  or  two  of  the  other  boys  roused  them- 
selves, and  began  to  sit  up  and  talk  to  one  another  in  low 
tones.  Then  East  after  a roll  or  two  came  to  an  anchor 
also,  and,  nodding  to  Tom,  began  examining  his  ankle. 

“ What  a pull,”  said  he,  “ that  it’s  lie-in-bed,  for  I shall 
be  as  lame  as  a tree,  I think.” 

It  was  Sunday  morning,  and  Saturday  lectures  had  not 
yet  been  established ; so  that  nothing  but  breakfast  inter- 
vened between  bed  and  eleven  o’clock  chapel — -a  gap  by 


SETTLING  TO  THE  COLLAR . 


109 


no  means  easy  to  fill  up  ; in  fact,  though  received  with  the 
correct  amount  of  grumbling,  the  first  lecture  instituted  by 
the  Doctor  shortly  afterward  was  a great  boon  to  the  school. 
It  was  lie  in  bed,  and  no  one  was  in  a hurry  to  get  up, 
especially  in  rooms  where  the  sixth  form  boy  was  a good- 
tenpered  fellow,  as  was  the  case  in  Tom’s  room,  and  al- 
lowed the  small  boys  to  talk  and  laugh,  and  do  pretty  much 
what  they  pleased,  so  long  as  they  didn’t  disturb  him.  His 
bed  was  a bigger  one  than  the  rest,  standing  in  the  corner 
by  the  fireplace,  with  a washing  stand  and  large  basin  by 
the  side,  where  he  lay  in  state,  with  his  white  cu;  tains 
tucked  in  so  as  to  form  a retiring  place;  an  awful  subject 
of  contemplation  to  Tom,  who  slept  nearly  opposite,  and 
watched  the  great  man  rouse  himself  and  take  a book  from 
under  his  pillow,  and  begin  reading,  leaning  his  head  on 
his  hand,  and  turning  his  back  to  the  room.  Soon,  how- 
ever, a noise  of  striving  urchins  arose,  and  muttered  en- 
couragements from  the  neighboring  boys  of — u Go  it,  Tad- 
pole ! ” “ Now,  young  Green  ! ” “ Haul  away  his  blanket?  ” 

Slipper  him  on  the  hands  ! ” Young  Green  and  little 
Hall,  commonly  called  Tadpole  from  his  great  black  head 
and  thin  legs,  slept  side  by  side  far  away  by  the  door,  and 
were  forever  playing  one  another  tricks,  which  usually 
ended,  as  on  this  morning,  in  open  and  violent  collision  ; 
and  now,  unmindful  of  all  order  and  authority,  there  they 
were,  each  hauling  away  at  the  other’s  bed-clothes  with  one 
hand,  and  with  the  other  armed  with  a slipper,  belaboring 
whatever  portion  of  the  body  of  his  adversary  qame  within 
reach. 

“ Hold  that  noise  up  in  the  corner,”  called  out  the  prae- 
postor, sitting  up  and  looking  round  his  curtains;  and  the 
Tadpole  and  young  Green  sank  down  into  their  disordered 
beds,  and  then,  looking  at  his  watch  added,  “ Hullo,  past 
eight ! — whose  turn  for  hot  water?” 

(Where  the  praepostor  was  particular  in  his  ablutions, 
the  fags  in  his  room  had  to  descend  in  turn  to  the  kitchen, 
and  beg  or  steal  hot  water  for  him;  and  often  the  custom 
extended  further,  and  two  boys  went  down  every  morning 
to  get  a supply  for  the  whole  room.) 

u East’s  and  Tadpole’s,”  answered  the  senior  fag,  who 
kept  the  rota. 

4bI  can’t  go,”  said  East;  u Tm  dead  lame.’ 


110 


TOM  BROWN  S SCH00L-BAY8. 


u Well,  be  quick,  some  of  you  that’s  all,”  said  the  great 
man.  as  he  turned  out  of  bed,  and  putting  on  his  slippers, 
went  out  into  the  great  passage  which  runs  the  whole 
length  of  the  bedrooms,  to  get  his  Sunday  habiliments  out 
of  his  portmanteau. 

“ Let  me  go  for  you,”  said  Tom  to  East.  “ I should  like 
it.” 

“Well,  tliank’ee,  that’s  a good  fellow.  Just  pull  on 
your  trousers  and  take  your  jug  and  mine.  Tadpole  will 
show  you  the  way.” 

And  so  Tom  and  the  Tadpole,  in  night-shirts  and  trous- 
ers, started  off  down-stairs,  and  through  “ Thos’s  hole,”  as 
the  little  buttery,  where  candles  and  beer,  and  bread  and 
cheese  were  served  out  at  night,  was  called  ; across  the 
schoolhouse  court,  down  a long  passage,  and  into  the  kitchen  ; 
where,  after  some  parley  with  the  stalwart,  handsome  cook, 
who  declared  that  she  had  filled  a dozen  jugs  already,  they 
got  their  hot  water,  and  returned  with  all  speed  and  great 
caution.  As  it  was,  they  narrowly  escaped  capture  by 
some  privateers  from  the  fifth-form  rooms,  who  were  on  the 
look-out  for  the  hot- water  convoys,  and  pursued  them  up  to 
the  very  door  of  their  room,  making  them  spill  half  their 
load  in  the  passage.  “ Better  than  going  down  again  though,” 
Tadpole  remarked,  “ as  we  should  have  had  to  do,  if  those 
beggars  had  caught  us.” 

By  the  time  that  the  calling-over  bell  rang,  Tom  and  his 
new  comrades  were  all  down,  dressed  in  their  best  clothes, 
and  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  answering  “ here”  to  his 
name  for  the  first  time,  the  praepostor  of  the  week  having 
put  it  in  at  the  bottom  of  his  list.  And  then  came  break- 
fast, and  a saunter  about  the  close  and  town  with  East, 
whose  lameness  only  became  severe  when  any  fagging  had 
to  be  done.  And  so  they  whiled  away  the  time  until  morn- 
ing chapel. 

It  was  a fine  November  morning,  and  the  close  soon  be- 
came alive  with  boys  of  all  ages,  who  sauntered  about  on 
the  grass,  or  walked  round  the  gravel  walk,  in  parties  of 
two  or  three.  East,  still  doing  the  cicerone,  pointed  out 
all  the  remarkable  characters  to  Tom  as  they  passed;  Os- 
bert,  who  could  throw  a cricket-ball  from  the  little  side- 
ground  over  the  rook  trees  to  the  doctor’s  wall;  Gray,  who 
had  got  the  Balliol  scholarship,  and,  what  East  evidently 


SETTLING  TO  TEE  COLLAR. 


Ill 


thought  of  much  more  importance,  a half-holiday  for  the 
school  by  his  success ; Thorne,  who  had  run  ten  miles  in  two 
minutes  over  the  hour ; Black,  who  had  held  his  own 
against  the  cock  of  the  town  in  the  last  row  with  the  louts ; 
and  many  more  heroes,  who  then  and  there  walked  about 
and  were  worshiped,  all  trace  of  whom  has  long  since  van- 
ished from  the  scene  of  their  fame ; and  the  fourth-form  boy 
who  reads  their  names  rudely  cut  out  on  the  old  hall  tables, 
or  painted  upon  the  big  side  cupboard  (if  hall  tables,  and 
big  side-cupboards  still  exist),  wonders  what  manner  of 
boys  they  were.  It  will  be  the  same  with  you  who  wonder, 
my  sons,  whatever  your  prowess  may  be,  in  cricket,  or 
scholarship,  or  football.  Two  or  three  years,  more  or  less, 
and  then  the  steadily  advancing,  blessed  wave  will  pass 
over  your  names  as  it  has  passed  over  ours.  Nevertheless, 
play  your  games  and  do  your  work  manfully — see  only  that 
that  be  done,  and  let  the  remembrance  of  it  take  care  of  it- 
self. 

The  chapel-bell  began  to  ring  at  a quarter  to  eleven,  and 
Tom  got  in  early  and  took  his  place  in  the  lowest  row,  and 
watched  all  the  other  boys  come  in  and  take  their  places, 
filling  row  after  row ; and  tried  to  construe  the  Greek  text 
which  was  inscribed  over  the  door  with  the  slightest  possible 
success,  and  wondered  which  of  the  masters,  who  walked 
down  the  chapel  and  took  their  seats  in  the  exalted  boxes 
at  the  end,  would  be  his  lord.  And  then  came  the  closing 
of  the  doors,  and  the  Doctor  in  his  robes  and  the  service, 
which,  however,  didn’t  impress  him  much,  for  his  feeling  of 
wonder  and  curiosity  was  too  strong.  And  the  boy  on  one 
side  of  him  was  scratching  his  name  on  the  oak  paneling  in 
front,  and  he  couldn’t  help  watching  to  see  what  the  name 
was,  and  whether  it  was  well  scratched ; and  the  boy  on 
the  other  side  went  to  sleep  and  kept  falling  against  him  ; 
and  on  the  whole,  though  many  boys  even  in  that  part  of 
the  school  were  serious  and  attentive,  the  general  atmos- 
phere was  by  no  means  devotional ; and  when  he  got  out 
into  the  close  again,  he  didn’t  feel  at  all  comfortable,  or  as 
if  he  had  been  to  church. 

But  at  afternoon  chapel  it  was  quite  another  thing.  He 
had  spent  the  time  after  dinner  in  writing  home  to  his 
mother,  and  so  was  in  a better  frame  of  mind;  and  his  first 
curiosity  was  over,  and  he  could  attend  more  to  the  service. 


112 


TOM  BROWN ’ S SCHOOL-BA YS. 


As  the  hymn  after  the  prayers  was  being  sung,  and  the  chapel 
was  getting  a little  dark,  he  was  beginning  to  feel  that  he  had 
been  really  worshiping.  And  then  came  that  great  event 
in  his,  as  in  every  Rugby  boy’s  life  of  that  day — the  first 
sermon  from  the  Doctor. 

More  worthy  pens  than  mine  have  described  that  scene. 
The  oak  pulpit  standing  out  by  itself  above  the  school  seats. 
The  tall  gallant  form,  the  kindling  eye,  the  voice,  now  soft  as 
the  low  notes  of  a flute,  now  clear  and  stirring  as  the  call  of 
the  light  infantry  bugle,  of  him  who  stood  there  Sunday  after 
Sunday,  witnessing  and  pleading  for  his  Lord,  the  King  of 
righteousness  and  love  and  glory,  with  whose  spirit  he  was 
filled,  and  in  whose  power  he  spoke.  The  long  lines  of 
young  faces,  rising  tier  above  tier  down  the  whole  length 
of  the  chapel,  from  the  little  boy’s  who  had  just  left  his 
mother  to  the  young  man’s  who  was  going  out  next  week  into 
the  great  world  rejoicing  in  his  strength.  It  was  a great 
and  solemn  sight,  and  never  more  so  than  at  this  time  of 
year,  when  the  only  lights  in  the  chapel  were  in  the  pulpit 
and  at  the  seats  of  the  praepostors  of  the  week,  and  the  soft 
twilight  stole  over  the  rest  of  the  chapel,  deepening  into 
darkness  in  the  high  gallery  behind  the  organ. 

But  what  was  it  after  all  which  seized  and  held  these 
three  hundred  boys,  dragging  them  out  of  themselves,  will- 
ing or  unwilling,  for  twenty  minutes,  on  Sunday  afternoon  ? 
True,  there  always  were  boys  scattered  up  and  down  the 
school,  who  in  heart  and  head  were  worthy  to  hear  and 
able  to  carry  away  the  deepest  and  wisest  words  there 
spoken.  But  these  were  a minority  always,  general^  a 
very  small  one,  often  so  small  a one  as  to  be  countable  on 
the  fingers  of  your  hand.  What  was  it  that  moved  and 
held  us,  the  rest  of  the  three  hundred  reckless,  childish 
boys,  who  feared  the  Doctor  with  all  our  hearts,  and  very 
little  besides  in  heaven  or  earth ; who  thought  more  of  our 
sets  in  the  school  than  of  the  Church  of  Christ,  and  put  the 
traditions  of  Rugby  and  the  public  opinion  of  boys  in  our 
daily  life  above  the  laws  of  God?  We  couldn’t  enter  into 
half  that  we  heard ; we  hadn’t  the  knowledge  of  our  own 
hearts  or  the  knowledge  of  one  another;  and  little  enough 
of  the  faith,  hope,  and  love  needed  to  that  end.  But  we 
listened,  as  all  boj^s  in  their  better  moods  will  listen  (aye, 
and  men  too,  for  the  matter  of  that),  to  a man  who  we  felt 


SETTLING  TO  THE  COLLAB. 


113 


to  be,  with  all  his  heart  and  soul  and  strength,  striving 
against  whatever  was  mean  and  unmanly  and  unrighteous 
in  our  little  world.  It  was  not  the  cold  clear  voice  of  one 
giving  advice  and  warning  from  serene  heights  to  those 
who  were  struggling  and  sinning  below,  but  the  warm  liv- 
ing voice  of  one  who  was  fighting  for  us  and  by  our  sides, 
and  calling  on  us  to  help  him  and  ourselves  and  one  an- 
other. And  so,  wearily  and  little  by  little,  but  surely  and 
steadily  on  the  whole,  was  brought  home  to  the  young  boy, 
for  the  first  time,  the  meaning  of  his  life;  that  it  was  no 
fool’s  or  sluggard’s  paradise  into  which  he  had  wandered  by 
chance,  but  a battle-field  ordained  from  of  old,  where  there 
are  no  spectators,  but  the  youngest  must  take  his  side,  and 
the  stakes  are  life  and  death.  And  he  who  roused  his 
consciousness  in  them  showed  them  at  the  same  time,  by 
every  word  he  spoke  in  the  pulpit,  and  by  his  whole  daily 
life,  how  that  battle  was  to  be  fought;  and  stood  there  be- 
fore them  their  fellow-soldier  and  the  captain  of  the  band. 
The  true  sort  of  captain,  too,  for  a boy’s  army,  one  who  had 
no  misgivings  and  gave  no  uncertain  word  of  command, 
and,  let  who  would  yield  or  make  a truce,  would  fight  the 
fight  out  (so  every  boy  felt)  to  the  last  gasp  and  the  last 
drop  of  blood.  Other  sides  of  his  character  might  take 
hold  of  and  influence  boys  here  and  there,  but  it  was  this 
thoroughness  and  undaunted  courage  which  more  than  any- 
thing else  won  his  way  to  the  hearts  of  the  great  mass  of 
those  on  whom  he  left  his  mark  and  made  them  believe 
first  in  him,  and  then  in  his  Master. 

It  was  this  quality  above  all  others  which  moved  such 
boys  as  our  hero,  who  had  nothing  whatever  remarkable 
about  him  except  excess  of  boyishness  ; by  which  I mean 
animal  life  in  its  fullest  measure,  good  nature  and  honest 
impulses,  hatred  of  injustice  and  meanness,  and  thought- 
lessness enough  to  sink  a three  decker.  And  so,  during 
the  next  two  years,  in  which  it  was  more  than  doubtful 
whether  he  would  get  good  or  evil  from  the  school,  and 
before  any  steady  purpose  or  principle  grew  up  in  him, 
whatever  his  week’s  sins  and  short-comings  might  have 
been,  he  hardly  ever  left  the  chapel  on  Sunday  evenings 
without  a serious  resolve  to  stand  by  and  follow  the  Doc- 
tor, and  a feeling  that  it  was  only  cowardice  (the  incarna- 
nation  of  all  other  sins  in  such  a boy’s  mind)  which 
hindered  him  from  doing  so  with  all  his  heart. 


114 


TOM  BLOWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


The  next  day  Tom  was  duly  placed  in  the  third  form, 
and  began  his  lessons  in  a corner  of  the  big  school.  He 
found  the  work  very  easy,  as  he  had  been  well  grounded, 
and  knew  his  grammar  by  heart ; and,  as  he  had  no  inti- 
mate companion  to  make  him  idle  (East  and  his  other 
school-house  friends  being  in  the  lower-fourth,  the  form 
above  him),  soon  gained  golden  opinions  from  his  master, 
who  said  he  was  placed  too  low,  and  should  be  put  out  at 
the  end  of  the  half-year.  So  all  went  well  with  him  in 
school,  and  he  wrote  the  most  flourishing  letters  home  to 
his  mother,  full  of  his  success  and  the  unspeakable  delights 
of  a public  school. 

In  the  house,  too,  all  went  well.  The  end  of  the  half- 
j^ear  was  drawing  near,  which  kept  everybody  in  a good 
humor,  and  the  house  was  ruled  well  and  strongly  by 
Warner  and  Brooke.  True,  the  general  system  was  rough 
and  hard,  and  there  was  bullying  in  nooks  and  corners,  bad 
signs  for  the  future;  but  it  never  got  further,  or  dared 
show  itself  openly,  stalking  about  the  passages  and  halls 
and  bedrooms,  and  making  the  life  of  the  small  boys  a 
continual  fear. 

Tom,  as  a new  boy,  was  of  right  excused  fagging  for  the 
first  month,  but  in  his  enthusiasm  for  his  new  life  this 
privilege  hardly  pleased  him;  and  East  and  others  of  his 
young  friends  discovering  this,  kindly  allowed  him  to  in- 
dulge his  fancy,  and  take  their  turns  at  night  fagging  and 
cleaning  studies.  These  were  the  principal  duties  of  the 
fags  in  the  house.  From  supper  until  nine  o’clock,  three 
fags  taken  in  order  stood  in  the  passages,  and  answered 
any  praepostor  who  called  Fag,  racing  to  the  door,  the  last 
comer  having  to  do  the  work.  This  consisted  generally  of 
going  to  the  buttery  for  beer  and  bread  and  cheese  (for  the 
great  men  did  not  sup  with  the  rest,  but  had  each  his  own 
allowance  in  his  study  or  the  fifth-form  room),  cleaning  can- 
dle-sticks and  putting  in  new  candles,  toasting  cheese,  bot- 
tling beer,  and  carrying  messages  about  the  house  ; and  Tom, 
in  the  first  blush  of  his  hero-worship,  felt  it  a high  privilege 
to  receive  orders  from,  and  be  the  bearer  of  the  supper  of, 
old  Brooke.  And  besides  this  night-work,  each  praepostor 
had  three  or  four  fags  specially  allotted  to  him,  of  whom 
he  was  supposed  to  be  the  guide,  philosopher  and  friend, 
and  who  in  return  for  these  good  offices  had  to  clean  out 


SETTLING  TO  THE  COLLAR . 


115 


his  study  every  morning  by  turns,  directly  after  first  lesson 
and  before  he  returned  from  breakfast.  And  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  the  great  men’s  studies,  and  looking  at  their  pict- 
ures, and  peeping  into  their  books,  made  Tom  a ready 
substitute  for  any  boy  who  was  too  lazy  to  do  his  own  work. 
And  so  he  soon  gained  the  character  of  a good-natured 
willing  fellow,  who  was  ready  to  do  a turn  for  any  one. 

In  all  the  games  too  he  joined  with  all  his  heart  and  soon 
became  well  versed  in  all  the  mysteries  of  football,  by  con- 
tinued practice  at  the  school-house  little-side  which  played 
daily. 

The  only  "incident  worth  recording  here,  however,  was 
his  first  run  at  hare-and-hounds.  On  the  last  Tuesday  but 
one  of  the  half-year  he  was  passing  through  the  hall  after 
dinner,  when  he  was  hailed  with  shouts  from  Tadpole  and 
several  other  fags  seated  at  one  of  the  long  tables,  the 
chorus  of  which  was,  “ Come  and  help  us  tear  up  scent.” 
Tom  approached  the  table  in  obedience  to  the  mysterious 
summons,  always  ready  to  help,  and  found  the  party  en- 
gaged in  tearing  up  old  newspapers,  copy-books  and  mag- 
azines, into  small  pieces,  with  which  they  were  filling 
four  large  canvas  bags. 

u It’s  the  turn  of  our  house  to  find  scent  for  big-side 
hare-and-hounds,”  exclaimed  Tadpole  ; u tear  away,  there’s 
no  time  to  lose  before  calling-over.” 

“ I think  it’s  a great  shame,”  said  another  small  boy,  “ to 
have  such  a hard  run  for  the  last  day.” 

“ Which  run  is  it?  ” said  Tadpole. 

“Oh,  the  Barby  run,  I hear,”  answered  the  other;  “nine 
miles  at  least,  and  hard  ground ; no  chance  of  getting  in 
at  the  finish,  unless  you’re  a first-rate  scud.” 

“Well,  I’m  going  to  have  a try,”  said  Tadpole  ; “it’s 
the  last  run  of  the  half,  and  if  a fellow  gets  in  at  the  end, 
big-side  stands  ale  and  bread  and  cheese,  and  a bowl  of 
punch;  and  the  Cock’s  such  a famous  place  for  ale.” 

“ I should  like  to  try  too,”  said  Tom. 

“Well,  then,  leave  your  waistcoat  behind,  and  listen  at 
the  door,  after  calling-over,  and  you’ll  hear  where  the 
meet  is.” 

After  calling-over,  sure  enough,  there  were  two  boys 
at  the  door,  calling  out.  “ Big-side  hare-and-hounds  meet 
at  White  Hall;”  and  Tom,  having  girded  himself  with 


116 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


leather  strap,  and  left  all  superfluous  clothing  behind,  set 
off  for  White  Hall,  an  old  gable-ended  house  some 
quarter  of  a mile  from  town,  with  East,  whom  he  had  per- 
suaded to  join,  notwithstanding  his  prophecy  that  they 
could  never  get  in,  as  it  was  the  hardest  run  of  the  year. 

At  the  meet  they  found  some  forty  or  fifty  boys,  and 
Tom  felt  sure,  from  having  seen  many  of  them  run  at 
football,  that  he  and  East  were  more  likely  to  get  in  than 
they. 

After  a few  minutes’  waiting,  two  well-known  runners, 
chosen  for  the  hares,  buckled  on  the  four  bags  filled  with 
scent,  compared  their  watches  with  those  of  young  Brooke 
and  Thorne,  and  started  off  at  a long  slinging  trot  across 
the  fields  in  the  direction  of  Barby. 

Then  the  hounds  clustered  around  Thorn,  who  ex- 
plained shortly. 

“ They’re  to  have  six  minutes’  law.  We  run  into  the 
Cock,  and  every  one  who  comes  in  within  a quarter  of  an 
hour  of  the  hares’ll  be  counted,  if  he  has  been  round 
Barby  church.”  Then  came  a minute’s  pause  or  so,  and 
then  the  watches  are  pocketed,  and  the  pack  is  led  through 
the  gateway  into  the  field  which  the  hares  had  first  crossed. 
Here  they  break  into  a trot,  scattering  over  the  field  to  find 
the  first  traces  of  the  scent  which  the  hares  throw  out  as 
they  go  along.  The  old  hounds  made  straight  for  the 
likely  points,  and  in  a minute  a cry  of  “ forward  ” comes 
from  one  of  them,  and  the  whole  pack  quickening  their 
pace  make  for  the  spot,  while  the  boy  who  hit  the  scent 
first  and  the  two  or  three  nearest  to  him  are  over  the  first 
fence,  and  making  play  along  the  hedgerow  in  the  long 
grass-field  beyond.  The  rest  of  the  pack  rush  at  the  gap 
already  made,  and  scramble  through,  jostling  one  another. 
“ Forward  ” again,  before  they  are  half  through ; the 
pace  quickens  into  a sharp  run,  the  tail  hounds  all  strain- 
ing  to  get  up  with  the  lucky  leaders.  They  are  gallant 
hares,  and  the  scent  lies  thick  right  across  another  meadow 
and  into  a plowed  field,  where  the  pace  begins  to  tell ; and 
then  over  a good  wattle  with  a ditch  on  the  other  side,  and 
down  a large  pasture  studded  with  old  thorns,  which  slopes 
down  to  the  first  brook ; the  great  Leicestershire  sheep 
charge  away  across  the  field  as  the  pack  comes  racing  down 
the  slope.  The  brook  is  a small  one,  and  the  scent  lies 


SETTLING  TO  TEE  COLLAR . 


117 


right  ahead  up  the  opposite  slope,  and  as  thick  as  ever; 
not  a turn  or  a check  to  favor  the  tail  hounds  who  strain 
on,  now  trailing  in  a long  line,  many  a youngster  begin- 
ning to  drag  his  legs  heavily,  and  feel  his  heart  beat  like  a 
hammer,  and  the  bad  plucked  ones  thinking  that  after  all 
it  isn’t  worth  while  to  keep  it  up. 

Tom,  East,  and  the  Tadpole  had  a good  start,  and  are 
well  up  for  such  young  hands,  and  after  rising  the  slope 
and  crossing  the  next  field,  find  themselves  up  with  the 
leading  hounds,  who  have  overrun  the  scent  and  are  try- 
ing back  ; they  have  come  a mile  and  a half  in  about  eleven 
minutes,  a pace  which  shows  that  it  is  the  last  day.  About 
twenty-five  of  the  original  starters  only  show  here,  the  rest 
having  already  given  in ; the  leaders  are  busy  making 
casts  into  the  fields  on  the  left  and  right,  and  the  others 
get  their  second  winds. 

Then  comes  the  cry  of  “ forward  ” again,  from  young 
Brooke,  from  the  extreme  left,  and  the  pack  settles  down 
to  work  again  steadily  and  doggedly,  the  whole  keeping 
pretty  well  together.  The  scent,  though  still  good,  is  not 
so  thick ; there  is  no  need  of  that,  for  in  this  part  of  the 
run  every  one  knows  the  line  which  must  be  taken,  and  so 
there  are  no  casts  to  be  made,  but  good  downright  running 
and  fencing  to  be  done.  All  who  are  now  up  mean  coming 
in,  and  they  come  to  the  foot  of  Bar  by  hill  without  losing 
more  than  two  or  three  more  of  the  pack.  This  last 
straight  two  miles  and  a half  is  always  a vantage  ground 
for  the  hounds,  and  the  hares  know  it  well ; they  are  gen- 
erally viewed  on  the  side  of  Barby  hill,  and  all  eyes  are  on 
the  look-out  for  them  to-day.  But  not  a sign  of  them  ap- 
pears, so  now  will  be  the  hard  work  for  the  hounds,  and 
there  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  cast  about  for  the  scent,  for 
it  is  now  the  hares’  turn,  and  they  may  baffle  the  pack 
dreadfully  in  the  next  two  miles. 

Ill  fares  it  now  with  our  youngsters  that  they  are  school- 
house  boys,  and  so  follow  young  Brooke,  for  he  takes  the 
wide  casts  round  to  the  left,  conscious  of  his  own  powers, 
and  loving  the  hard  work.  For  if  you  would  consider  for 
a moment,  you  small  boys,  you  would  remember  that  the 
Cock,  where  the  run  ends,  and  the  good  ale  will  be  going, 
lies  far  out  to  the  right  on  the  Dunchurch  road,  so  that 
every  cast  you  take  to  the  left  is  so  much  extra  work.  And 


118 


TOM  BLOWN' S SCHOOL-BAYS. 


at  this  stage  of  the  run,  when  the  evening  is  closing  in  al- 
ready, no  one  remarks  whether  you  run  a little  cunning  or 
not,  so  you  should  stick  to  those  crafty  hounds  who  keep 
edging  away  to  the  right,  and  not  follow  a prodigal  like 
young  Brooke,  whose  legs  are  twice  as  long  as  yours  and 
of  cast  iron,  wholly  indifferent  to  two  or  three  miles  more 
or  less.  However,  they  struggle  after  him,  sobbing  and 
plunging  along.  Tom  and  East  pretty  close,  and  Tadpole, 
whose  big  head  begins  to  pull  him  down,  some  thirty 
yards  behind. 

Now  comes  a brook,  with  stiff  clay  banks,  from  which 
they  can  hardly  drag  their  legs,  and  they  hear  faint  cries 
for  help  from  the  wretched  Tadpole,  who  has  fairly  stuck 
fast.  But  they  have  too  little  run  left  in  themselves  to  pull 
up  for  their  own  brothers.  Three  fields  more,  and  another 
check,  and  then  “ forward  ” called  away  to  the  extreme 
right. 

The  two  boys’  souls  die  within  them ; they  can  never  do  it. 
Young  Brooke  thinks  so  too,  and  says  kindly,  “ You’ll  cross 
a lane  after  next  field,  keep  down  it,  and  you’ll  hit  the  Dun- 
church  road  below  the  Cock,”  and  then  steams  away  for 
the  run  in,  in  which  he’s  sure  to  be  first,  as  if  he  were  just 
starting.  They  struggle  on  across  the  next  field,  the  “ for- 
wards ” getting  fainter  and  fainter  and  then  ceasing.  The 
whole  hunt  is  out  of  ear-shot,  and  all  hope  of  coming  in  is 
over. 

“ Hang  it  all ! ” broke  out  East,  as  soon  as  he  had  got 
wind  enough,  pulling  off  his  hat  and  mopping  at  his  face, 
all  spattered  with  dirt  and  lined  with  sweat,  from  which 
went  up  a thick  steam  into  the  still  cold  air.  “I  told  you 
how  it  would  be.  What  a thick  I was  to  come ! Here  we 
are  dead  beat,  and  yet  I know  we’re  close  to  the  run  in,  if 
we  knew  the  country.” 

“Well,”  said  Tom,  mopping  away,  and  gulping  down 
his  disappointment,  “it  can’t  be  helped.  We  did  our  best 
anyhow.  Hadn’t  we  better  find  this  lane,  and  go  down  it, 
as  young  Brooke  told  us  ? ” 

“ I suppose  so — nothing  else  for  it,”  grunted  East.  “If 
ever  I go  out  last  day  again,”  growl — growl — growl. 

So  they  tried  back  slowly  and  sorrowfully,  and  found  the 
lane,  and  went  limping  down  it,  plashing  in  the  cold  pud- 
dly ruts,  and  beginning  to  feel  how  the  run  had  taken  it 


SETTLING  TO  TIIE  COLLAR . 


119 


out  of  them.  The  evening  closed  in  fast,  and  clouded  over, 
dark,  cold,  and  dreary. 

“ I say,  it  must  be  locking-up,  I should  think,”  remarked 
East,  breaking  the  silence;  ^ it’s  so  dark.” 

“What  if  we’re  late,”  said  Tom. 

“ No  tea,  and  sent  up  to  the  Doctor,”  answered  East. 

The  thought  didn’t  add  to  their  cheerfulness.  Presently 
a faint  haloo  was  heard  from  an  adjoining  field.  They  an- 
swered it  and  stopped,  hoping  for  some  competent  rustic  to 
guide  them,  when  over  a gate  some  twenty  yards  ahead 
crawled  the  wretched  Tadpole,  in  a state  of  collapse  ; he 
had  lost  a shoe  in  the  brook,  and  been  groping  after  it  up 
to  his  elbows  in  the  stiff'  wet  clay,  and  a more  miserable 
creature  in  the  shape  of  a boy  seldom  has  been  seen. 

The  sight  of  him,  notwithstanding,  cheered  them,  for  he 
was  some  degrees  more  wretched  than  they.  They  also 
cheered  him,  as  he  was  no  longer  under  the  dread  of  pass- 
ing his  night  alone  in  the  fields.  And  so  in  better  heart, 
the  three  plashed  painfully  down  the  never-ending  lane. 
At  last  it  widened,  just  as  utter  darkness  set  in,  and  they 
come  out  on  to  a turnpike-road,  and  there  paused,  bewil- 
dered, for  they  had  lost  all  bearings,  and  knew  not  whether 
to  turn  to  the  right  or  left. 

Luckily  for  them  they  had  not  to  decide,  for  lumbering 
along  the  road,  with  one  lamp  lighted,  and  two  spavined 
horses  in  the  shafts,  came  a heavy  coach,  which  after  a mo- 
ment’s suspense  they  recognized  as  the  Oxford  coach,  the 
redoubtable  Pig  and  Whistle. 

It  lumbered  slowly  up,  and  the  boys,  mustering  their 
last  run,  caught  it  as  it  passed,  and  began  scrambling  up 
behind,  in  which  exploit  East  missed  his  footing  and  fell 
flat  on  his  nose  along  the  road.  Then  the  others  hailed  the 
old  scarecrow  of  a coachman,  who  pulled  up  and  agreed  to 
take  them  in  for  a shilling ; so  there  they  sat  on  the  back 
seat,  drubbing  with  their  heels,  and  their  teeth  chattering 
with  cold,  and  jogged  into  Rugby  some  forty  minutes  after 
locking-up. 

Five  minutes  afterwards,  three  small  limping  shivering 
figures  steal  along  through  the  Doctor’s  garden,  and  into 
the  house  by  the  servants’  entrance  (all  the  other  gates 
have  been  closed  long  since),  where  the  first  thing  they 
light  upon  in  the  passage  is  old  Thomas,  ambling  along, 
candle  in  one  hand,  and  keys  in  the  other. 


120 


TOM  BROWN’S  SCHOOL-BAYS. 


He  stops  and  examines  their  condition  with  a grim  smile. 
u Ah  ! East,  Hall,  and  Brown,  late  for  locking-up.  Must 
go  to  the  Doctor’s  study  at  once.” 

“ Well,  but,  Thomas,  mayn’t  we  go  and  wash  first  ? You 
can  put  down  the  time,  you  know.” 

“ Doctor’s  study  d’rectty  you  come  in — that’s  the  orders,” 
replied  old  Thomas,  motioning  toward  the  stairs  at  the  end 
of  the  passage  which  led  up  into  the  Doctor’s  house ; and 
the  boys  turned  ruefully  down  it,  not  cheered  by  the  old 
verger’s  muttered  remark,  u What  a pickle  they  boys  be 
in  ! ” Thomas  referred  to  their  faces  and  habiliments,  but 
they  construed  it  as  indicating  the  Doctor’s  state  of  mind. 
Upon  the  short  flight  of  stairs  they  paused  to  hold  counsel. 
“ Who’ll  go  in  first?”  inquires  Tadpole. 

“ You — you’re  the  senior,”  answered  East. 

“ Catch  me — look  at  the  state  I’m  in,”  rejoined  Hall, 
showing  the  arms  of  his  jacket.  “ I must  get  behind  you 
two.” 

“ Well,  but  look  at  me,”  said  East,  indicating  the  mass  of 
clay  behind  which  he  was  standing;  “I’m  worse  than  )rou, 
two  to  one ; you  might  grow  cabbages  on  my  trousers.” 

“ That’s  all  down  below,  and  you  can  keep  your  legs  be- 
hind the  sofa,”  said  Hall. 

“ Here  Brown  you’re  the  show-figure — you  must  lead.” 
“ But  my  face  is  all  muddy,”  argued  Tom. 

“ Oh,  we’re  all  in  one  boat  for  that  matter ; but  come  on, 
we’re  only  making  it  worse,  dawdling  here.” 

“ Well,  just  give  us  a brush  then,”  said  Tom;  and  they 
began  trying  to  rub  off  the  superfluous  dirt  from  each  other’s 
jackets,  but  it  was  not  dry  enough,  and  the  rubbing  made 
it  worse  ; so  in  despair  they  pushed  through  the  swing  door 
at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  and  found  themselves  in  the  Doc- 
tor’s hall. 

“ That’s  the  library  door,”  said  East  in  a whisper,  pushing 
Tom  forward.  The  sound  of  merry  voices  and  laughing 
came  from  within,  and  his  first  hesitating  knock  was  un- 
answered. But  at  the  second  the  Doctor’s  voice  said, 
“ Come  in,”  and  Tom  turned  the  handle,  and  he,  with 
the  others  behind  him,  sidled  into  the  room. 

The  Doctor  looked  up  from  his  task ; he  was  working 
away  with  a great  chisel  at  the  bottom  of  a boy’s  sailing 
boat,  the  lines  of  which  he  was  no  doubt  fashioning  on  the 


SETTLING  TO  TEE  COLLAR. 


121 


model  of  one  of  Nicias's  galleys.  Round  him  stood  three  or 
four  children ; the  candles  burned  brightly  on  a large  table 
at  the  further  end  covered  with  books  and  papers,  and  a 
great  fire  threw  a ruddy  glow  over  the  rest  of  the  room. 
All  looked  so  kindly,  and  homely,  and  comfortable,  that  the 
boys  took  heart  in  a moment,  and  Tom  advanced  from  be- 
hind the  shelter  of  the  great  sofa.  The  Doctor  nodded  to 
the  children,  who  went  out  casting  curious  and  amused 
glances  at  the  three  young  scarecrows. 

“ Well,  my  little  fellows,”  began  the  Doctor,  drawing  him- 
self up  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  the  chisel  in  one  hand  and 
his  coat-tails  in  the  other,  and  his  eyes  twinkling  as  he 
looked  them  over  ; “ what  makes  you  so  late  ? ” 

“ Please,  sir,  we’ve  been  out  big-side  hare-and-hounds, 
and  lost  our  way.” 

“ Hah!  you  couldn’t  keep  up,  I suppose?  ” 

“ Well,  sir,”  said  East,  stepping  out,  and  not  liking  that 
the  Doctor  should  think  lightly  of  his  running  powers,  “ we 
got  round  Barby  all  right,  but  then — ” 

“ Why,  what  a state  you’re  in,  my  boy  ! ” interrupted 
the  Doctor,  as  the  pitiful  condition  of  East’s  garments  was 
fully  revealed  to  him. 

“ That’s  the  fall  I got,  sir,  in  the  road,”  said  East,  look- 
ing down  at  himself ; “ the  Old  Pig  came  by — ” 

“ The  what?”  said  the  Doctor. 

“ The  Oxford  coach,  sir,”  explained  Hall. 

“ Hah  ! yes,  the  Regulator,”  said  the  Doctor. 

“ And  I tumbled  on  my  face  trying  to  get  up  behind,” 
went  on  East. 

“ You’re  not  hurt,  I hope  ? ” said  the  Doctor. 

“ Oh  no,  sir.” 

44  Well  now,  run  up-stairs,  all  three  of  you,  and  get  clean 
things  on,  and  then  tell  the  housekeeper  to  give  you  some 
tea.  You’re  too  young  to  try  such  long  runs.  Let  War- 
ner know  Pve  seen  you.  Good-night.” 

44  Good  night,  sir.”  And  away  scuttled  the  three  boys  in 
high  glee. 

44  What  a brick,  not  to  give  us  even  twenty  lines  to  learn  !” 
^ said  the  Tadpole,  as  they  reached  their  bed-room  ; and  in 
half  an  hour  afterward  they  were  sitting  by  the  fire  in  the 
housekeeper’s  room  at  a sumptuous  tea,  with  cold  meat. 
“ twice  as  good  a grub  as  we  should  have  got  in  the  hall,” 


122 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-BAYS. 


as  the  Tadpole  remarked  with  a grin,  his  mouth  full  of 
buttered  toast.  All  their  grievances  were  forgotten,  and 
they  were  resolving  to  go  out  the  first  big-side  next 
half,  and  thinking  hare-and-hounds  the  most  delightful  of 
games. 

A day  or  two  afterward  the  great  passage  outside  the 
bed-rooms  was  cleared  of  the  boxes  and  portmanteaus, 
which  went  down  to  be  packed  by  the  matron,  and  great 
games  of  chariot  racing,  and  cock  fighting,  and  bolstering, 
went  on  in  the  vacant  space,  the  sure  sign  of  a closing- 
half-year. 

Then  came  the  making-up  of  parties  for  the  journey 
home,  and  Tom  joined  a party  who  were  to  hire  a coach, 
and  post  with  four  horses  to  Oxford. 

Then  the  last  Saturday,  on  which  the  Doctor  came  round 
to  each  form  to  give  out  the  prizes,  and  hear  the  masters’ 
last  reports  of  how  they  and  their  charges  had  been  con- 
ducting themselves  ; and  Tom,  to  his  huge  delight,  was 
praised,  and  got  his  remove  into  the  lower-fourth,  in  which 
all  his  school-house  friends  were. 

On  the  next  Tuesday  morning,  at  four  o’clock,  hot  cof- 
fee was  going  on  in  the  housekeeper’s  and  matron’s  rooms ; 
boys  wrapped  in  great  coats  and  mufflers  were  swallowing 
hasty  mouthfuls,  rushing  about,  tumbling  over  luggage, 
and  asking  questions  all  at  once  of  the  matron  ; outside  the 
school-gates  were  drawn  up  several  chaises  and  the  four- 
horse  coach  which  Tom’s  party  had  chartered,  the  post-boys 
in  their  best  jackets  and  breeches,  and  a cornopean  player, 
hired  for  the  occasion,  blowing  away  “ A southerly  wind 
and  a cloudy  sky,”  waking  all  peaceful  inhabitants  half-way 
down  the  High  street. 

Every  minute  the  bustle  and  hubbub  increased,  porters 
staggered  about  with  boxes  and  bags,  the  cornopean  played 
louder.  Old  Thomas  sat  in  his  den  with  a great  yellow 
bag  by  his  side,  out  of  which  he  was  paying  journey  money 
to  each  boy,  comparing  by  the  light  of  a solitary  dip  the 
dirty  crabbed  little  list  in  his  own  handwriting  with  the  Doc- 
tor’s list,  and  the  amount  of  his  cash  ; his  head  was  on  one 
side,  his  mouth  screwed  up,  and  his  spectacles  dim  from 
early  toil.  He  had  prudently  locked  the  door,  and  carried 
on  his  operations  solely  through  the  window,  or  he  would 
have  been  driven  wild,  and  lost  all  his  money. 


SETTLING  TO  THE  COLLAR . 


123 


“ Thomas,  do  be  quick,  we  shall  never  catch  the  High- 
flyer at  Dunchurch.” 

44  That’s  your  money,  all  right,  Green.” 

“Hullo,  Thomas,  the  Doctor  said  I was  to  have  two- 
pound-ten;  you’ve  only  given  me  two  pound.” — I fear  that 
Master  Green  is  not  confining  himself  strictly  to  truth. — 
Thomas  turns  his  head  more  on  one  side  than  ever,  and 
spells  away  at  the  dirty  list.  Green  is  forced  away  from 
the  window. 

44  Here,  Thomas,  never  mind  him,  mine’s  thirty  shillings.” 
44  And  mine  too,”  44  and  mine,”  shouted  others. 

One  way  or  another,  the  party  to  which  Tom  belonged  all 
got  packed  and  paid,  and  sallied  out  to  the  gates,  the  corno- 
pean playing  frantically  44  Drops  of  Brandy,”  in  allusion, 
probably,  to  the  slight  potations  in  which  the  musician  and 
post-boj^s  had  been  already  indulging.  All  luggage  was 
carefully  stowed  away  inside  the  coach  and  in  the  front  and 
hind  boots,  so  that  not  a hat-box  was  visible  outside.  Five 
or  six  small  boys,  with  pea-shooters,  and  the  cornopean 
player,  got  up  behind;  in  front  the  big  boys,  mostly  smok- 
ing, not  for  pleasure,  but  because  they  are  now  gentlemen 
at  large — and  this  is  the  most  correct  public  method  of 
notifying  the  fact. 

44  Robinson’s  coach  will  be  down  the  road  in  a minute,  it 
has  gone  up  to  Bird’s  to  pick  up, — we’ll  wait  till  they’re 
close,  and  make  a race  of  it,”  says  the  leader.  44  Now,  boys, 
half-a-sovereign  apiece  if  you  beat  ’em  into  Dunchurch  by 
one  hundred  yards.” 

44  All  right,  sir,”  shouted  the  grinning  post-boys. 

Down  comes  Robinson’s  coach  in  a minute  or  two  with 
a rival  cornopean,  and  away  go  the  two  vehicles,  horses 
galloping,  boys  cheering,  horns  playing  loud.  There  is  a 
specia  Providence  over  schoolboys  as  well  as  sailors,  or  they 
must  have  upset  twenty  times  in  the  first  five  miles  ; some- 
times actually  abreast  of  one  another,  and  the  boys  on  the 
roofs  exchanging  volleys  of  peas,  now  nearly  running  over 
a post-chaise  which  had  started  before  them,  now  half-way 
up  a bank,  now  with  a wheel-and-a-half  over  a yawning  ditch ; 
and  all  this  in  a dark  morning,  with  nothing  but  their  own 
lamps  to  guide  them.  However,  it’s  all  over  at  last,  and 
they  have  run  over  nothing  but  an  old  pig  in  Southam 
street;  the  last  peas  are  distributed  in  the  corn  market  at 


124 


TOM  BBOWW’S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


Oxford,  where  they  arrive  between  eleven  and  twelve,  and 
sit  down  to  a sumptuous  breakfast  at  the  Angel,  which 
they  are  made  to  pay  for  accordingly.  Here  the  party 
breaks  up,  all  going  now  different  ways  ; and  Tom  orders  out 
a chaise  and  pair  as  grand  as  a lord,  though  he  has  scarcely 
five  shillings  left  in  his  pocket  and  more  than  twenty  miles 
to  get  home. 

“ Where  to,  sir  ? ” 

“ Red  Lion,  Farringdon,  ” say  Tom,  giving  hostler  a shil- 
ling. 

“ All  right,  sir.  Red  Lion,  Jem,  ” to  the  post-boy,  and 
Tom  rattles  away  toward  home.  At  Farringdon,  being 
known  to  the  innkeeper,  he  gets  that  worthy  to  pay  for  the 
Oxford  horses,  and  forward  him  in  another  chaise  at  once; 
and  so  the  gorgeous  young  gentleman  arrives  at  the  pater- 
nal mansion,  and  Squire  Brown  looks  rather  blue  at  having 
to  pay  two-pound  ten-shillings  for  the  posting  expenses 
from  Oxford.  But  the  boy’s  intense  joy  at  getting  home, 
and  the  wonderful  health  he  is  in,  and  the  good  character  he 
brings,  and  the  brave  stories  he  tells  of  Rugby,  its  doings 
and  delights,  soon  mollify  the  Squire,  and  three  happier 
people  didn’t  sit  down  to  dinner  that  day  in  England  (it  is 
the  boy’s  first  dinner  at  six  o’clock  at  home,  great  promo- 
tion already),  than  the  Squire  and  his  wife  and  Tom  Brown 
at  the  end  of  his  first  half-year  at  Rugby, 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  ¥AE  OF  INDEPENDENCE. 

They  are  slaves  who  will  not  choose 
Hatred,  scoffing,  and  abuse, 

Rather  than  in  silence  shrink 
From  the  truth  they  needs  must  think: 

They  are  slaves  who  dare  not  be 
In  the  right  with  two  or  three. 

Lowell,  Stanzas  on  Freedom . 

The  lower-fourth  form,  in  which  Tom  found  himself  at 
the  beginning  of  the  next  half-year,  was  the  largest  form 
in  the  lower  school,  and  numbered  upward  of  forty  boys. 
Young  gentlemen  of  all  ages  from  nine  to  fifteen  were  to 


THE  WAR  OF  IN  DEPEN  DANCE. 


125 


be  found  there,  who  expended  such  part  of  their  energies 
as  was  devoted  to  Latin  and  Greek  upon  a book  of  Livy, 
the  Bucolics  of  Virgil,  and  the  Hecuba  of  Euripides,  which 
were  ground  out  in  small  daily  portions.  The  driving  of 
this  unlucky  lower-fourth  must  have  been  grievous  work 
to  the  unfortunate  master,  for  it  was  the  most  unhappily 
constituted  of  any  in  the  school.  Here  stuck  the  great 
stupid  boys,  who  for  the  life  of  them  could  never  master 
the  accidence ; the  objects  alternately  of  mirth  and  terror 
to  the  youngsters,  who  were  daily  taking  them  up  and 
laughing  at  them  in  lesson,  and  getting  kicked  by  them 
for  so  doing  in  play-hours.  There  were  no  less  than  three 
unhappy  fellows  in  tail  coats,  with  incipient  down  on  their 
chins,  whom  the  Doctor  and  the  master  of  the  form  Avere 
always  endeavoring  to  hoist  into  the  upper  school,  but 
whose  parsing  and  construing  resisted  the  most  well-meant 
shoves.  Then  came  the  mass  of  the  form,  boys  of  eleven 
and  twelve,  the  most  mischievous  and  reckless  age  of 
British  youth,  of  whom  East  and  Tom  Brown  were  fair 
specimens.  As  full  of  tricks  as  monkeys,  and  of  excuses 
as  Irish  women,  making  fun  of  their  master,  one  another, 
and  their  lessons,  Argus  himself  would  have  been  puzzled 
to  keep  an  eye  on  them  ; and  as  for  making  them  steady 
or  serious  for  lialf-an-h-our  together,  it  was  simply  hopeless. 
The  remainder  of  the  form  consisted  of  young  prodigies  of 
nine  and  ten,  who  were  going  up  the  school  at  the  rate  of  a 
form  a half-year,  all  boys’  hands  and  wits  being  against 
them  in  their  progress.  It  would  have  been  one  man’s 
work  to  see  that  the  precocious  youngsters  had  fair  play ; 
and  as  the  master  had  a good  deal  besides  to  do,  they 
hadn’t,  and  were  forever  being  shoved  down  three  or  four 
places,  their  verses  stolen,  their  books  inked,  their  jackets 
whitened,  and  their  lives  otherwise  made  a burden  to  them. 

The  lower-fourth  and  all  the  forms  below  it,  were  heard 
in  the  great  school,  and  were  not  trusted  to  prepare  their 
lessons  before  coming  in,  but  were  whipped  into  school 
three-quarters  of  an  hour  before  the  lesson  began  by  their 
respective  masters,  and  there  scattered  about  on  the  benches, 
with  dictionary  and  grammar,  hammered  out  their  twenty 
lines  of  Virgil  and  Euripides  in  the  midst  of  Babel.  The 
masters  of  the  lower  school  walked  up  and  down  the  great 
school  together  during  this  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  or 


126 


TOM  BBOWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 


sat  in  their  desks  reading  or  looking  over  copies,  and  keep- 
ing such  order  as  was  possible.  But  the  lower-fourth  was 
just  now  an  overgrown  form,  too  large  for  any  one  man  to 
attend  to  properly,  and  consequently  the  elysium  or  ideal 
form  of  the  young  scapegraces  who  formed  the  staple  of  it. 

Tom,  as  has  been  said,  had  come  up  from  the  third  with 
a good  character,  but  the  temptations  of  the  lower-fourth 
soon  proved  too  strong  for  him,  and  he  rapidly  fell  away, 
and  became  as  unmanageable  as  the  rest.  For  some  weeks, 
indeed,  he  succeeded  in  maintaining  the  appearance  of 
steadiness,  and  was  looked  upon  favorably  by  his  new 
master,  whose  eyes  were  first  opened  by  the  following  lit- 
tle incident. 

Besides  the  desk  which  the  master  himself  occupied, 
there  was  another  large  unoccupied  desk  in  the  corner  of 
the  great  school,  which  was  untenanted.  To  rush  and 
seize  upon  this  desk,  which  was  ascended  by  three  steps, 
and  held  four  boys,  was  the  great  object  of  ambition  of  the 
lower  fourthers;  and  the  contentions  for  the  occupation 
of  it  bred  such  disorder,  that  at  last  the  master  forbade  its 
use  altogether.  This  of  course  was  a challenge  to  the  more 
adventurous  spirits  to  occupy  it,  and  as  it  was  capacious 
enough  for  two  boys  to  lie  hid  there  completely,  it  was 
seldom  that  it  remained  empty,  notwithstanding  the  veto. 
Small  holes  were  cut  in  the  front,  through  which  the 
occupants  watched  the  masters  as  they  walked  up  and 
down,  and  as  lesson  time  approached,  one  boy  at  a time 
stole  out  and  down  the  steps,  as  the  masters’  backs  were 
turned,  and  mingled  with  the  general  crowd  on  the  forms 
below.  Tom  and  East  had  successfully  occupied  the  desk 
some  half-dozen  times,  and  were  grown  so  reckless  that 
they  were  in  the  habit  of  playing  small  games  with  fives’- 
balls  inside  when  the  masters  were  at  the  other  end  of  the 
big  school.  One  day,  as  ill-luck  would  have  it,  the  game 
became  more  exciting  than  usual,  and  the  ball  slipped 
through  East’s  fingers,  and  rolled  slowly  down  the  steps, 
and  out  into  the  middle  of  the  school,  just  as  the  masters 
turned  in  their  walk  and  faced  round  upon  the  desk.  The 
young  delinquents  watched  their  master  through  the  look- 
out holes  march  slowly  down  the  school  straight  upon 
their  retreat,  while  all  the  bo)^  in  the  neighborhood  of 
course  stopped  their  work  to  look  on  ; and  not  only  were 


THE  WAR  OF  IS  DEPEF'DES  CE. 


127 


they  ignomimously  drawn  out,  and  caned  over  the  hand 
then  and  there,  but  their  characters  for  steadiness  were 
gone  from  that  time.  However,  as  they  only  shared  the 
fate  of  some  three-fourths  of  the  rest  of  the  form,  this  did 
not  weigh  heaveily  upon  them. 

In  fact,  the  only  occasions  on  which  they  cared  about 
the  matter  were  the  monthly  examinations,  when  the 
Doctor  came  round  to  examine  their  form,  for  one  long 
awful  hour,  in  the  work  which  they  had  done  in  the  pre- 
ceding month.  The  second  monthly  examination  came 
round  soon  after  Tom’s  fall,  and  it  was  with  anything  but 
lively  anticipations  that  he  and  the  other  lower-fourth  boys 
came  into  prayers  on  the  morning  of  the  examination  day. 

Prayers  and  calling-over  seemed  twice  as  short  as  usual, 
and  before  they  could  get  construes  of  a tithe  of  the  hard 
passages  marked  in  the  margin  of  their  books,  they  were 
all  seated  round,  and  the  Doctor  was  standing  in  the  middle, 
talking  in  whispers  to  the  master.  Tom  couldn’t  hear  a 
word  which  passed,  and  never  lifted  his  eyes  from  his  book  ; 
but  he  knew  by  a sort  of  magnetic  instinct  that  the  Doc- 
tor’s under  lip  was  coming  out,  and  his  eye  beginning  to 
burn,  and  his  gown  getting  gathered  up  more  and  more 
tightly  in  his  left  hand.  The  suspense  was  agonizing,  and 
Tom  knew  that  he  was  sure  on  such  occasions  to  make 
an  example  of  the  school-house  boys.  “ If  he  would  only 
begin,’'  thought  Tom,  “ I shouldn’t  mind.” 

At  last  the  whispering  ceased,  and  the  name  which  was 
called  out  was  not  Brown.  He  looked  up  for  a moment, 
but  the  Doctor’s  face  was  too  awful : Tom  wouldn’t  have 
met  his  eye  for  all  he  was  worth,  and  buried  himself  in  his 
book  again. 

The  boy  who  was  called  up  first  was  a cle  v er,  merry 
school-house  boy,  one  of  their  set:  he  was  some  connection 
of  the  Doctor’s,  and  a great  favorite,  and  ran  in  and  out  of 
his  house  as  he  liked,  and  so  was  selected  for  the  first 
victim. 

“ Triste  lupus , stabulis ,”  began  the  luckless  youngster 
and  stammered  through  some  eight  or  ten  lines. 

“ There,  that  will  do,”  said  the  Doctor ; “ now  construe.” 

On  common  occasions,  the  boy  could  have  construed  the 
passage  well  enough  probably,  but  now  his  head  has  gone. 

“ Triste  lupus , the  sorrowful  wolf,”  he  began. 


128 


TOM  BROWN’S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


A shudder  ran  through  the  whole  form,  and  the  Doctor's 
wrath  fairly  boiled  over ; he  made  three  steps  up  to  the 
construer,  and  gave  him  a good  box  on  the  ear.  The  blow 
was  not  a hard  one,  but  the*  boy  was  so  taken  by  surprise 
that  he  started  back;  the  form  caught  the  back  of  his 
knees,  and  oyer  he  went  on  to  the  floor  behind.  There  was 
a dead  silence  over  the  whole  school;  never  before,  and 
never  again  while  Tom  was  at  school,  did  the  Doctor  strike 
a boy  in  lesson.  The  provocation  must  have  been  great. 
However,  the  victim  had  saved  his  form  for  that  occasion, 
for  the  Doctor  turned  to  the  top  bench,  and  put  on  the  best 
boys  for  the  rest  of  the  hour ; and  though,  at  the  end  of 
the  lesson,  he  gave  them  all  such  a rating  as  they  did  not 
forget,  this  terrible  field-day  passed  over  without  any  severe 
visitations  in  the  shape  of  punishments  or  floggings.  Forty 
young  scapegraces  expressed  their  thanks  to  the  “ sorrow- 
ful wolf  ” in  their  different  ways  before  second  lesson. 

But  a character  for  steadiness  once  gone  is  not  easily  re- 
covered, as  Tom  found,  and  for  years  afterward  he  went  up 
to  the  school  without  it,  and  the  masters’  hands  were 
against  him,  and  his  against  them.  And  he  regarded  them, 
as  a matter  of  course,  as  his  natural  enemies.  Matters  were 
not  so  comfortable  either  in  the  house  as  they  had  been, 
for  old  Brooke  left  at  Christmas,  and  one  or  two  others  of 
the  sixth-form  boj^s  at  the  following  Easter.  Their  rule 
had  been  rough,  but  strong  and  just  in  the  main,  and  a 
higher  standard  was  beginning  to  be  set  up  ; in  fact  there 
had  been  a short  foretaste  of  the  good  time  which  followed 
some  years  later.  Just  now,  however,  all  threatened  to  re- 
turn into  darkness  and  chaos  again.  For  the  new  praepos- 
tors were  either  small  young  boys,  whose  cleverness  had 
carried  them  up  to  the  top  of  the  school,  while  in  strength 
of  body  and  character  they  were  not  yet  fit  for  a share  in 
the  government ; or  else  big  fellows  of  the  wrong  sort, 
boys  whose  friendships  and  taste  had  a downward  tendency, 
who  had  not  caught  the  meaning^of  their  position  and  work, 
and  felt  none  of  its  responsibilities.  So  under  this  no- 
government  the  school-house  began  to  see  bad  times.  The 
big  fifth-form  boys,  who  were  a sporting  and  drinking  set, 
soon  began  to  usurp  power,  and  to  fag  the  little  boys  as  if 
they  were  praepostors,  and  to  bully  and  oppress  any  who 
showed  signs  of  resistance.  The  bigger  sort  of  sixth-form 


THE  WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE. 


129 


boys  just  described  soon  made  common  cause  with  the  fifth, 
while  the  smaller  sort,  hampered  by  their  colleagues’  deser- 
tion to  the  enemy,  could  not  make  head  against  them.  So 
the  fags  were  without  their  lawful  masters  and  protectors, 
and  ridden  over  rough-shod  by  a set  of  boys  whom  they 
were  not  bound  to  obey,  and  whose  only  right  over  them 
stood  in  their  bodily  powers  ; and,  as  old  Brooke  had  proph- 
esied, the  house  by  degrees  broke  up  into  small  sets  and 
parties,  and  lost  the  strong  feeling  of  fellowship  which  he 
set  so  much  store  by,  and  with  it  much  of  the  prowess  in 
games  and  the  lead  in  all  school  matters  which  he  had  done 
so  much  to  keep  up. 

In  no  place  in  the  world  has  individual  character  more 
weight  than  at  a public  school.  Remember  this,  I beseech 
you,  all  you  boys  who  are  getting  into  the  upper  forms. 
Now  is  the  time  in  all  your  lives  probably  when  you  may 
have  more  wide  influence  for  good  or  evil  on  the  society  you 
live  in  than  you  ever  can  have  again.  Quit  yourselves  like 
men,  then ; speak  up,  and  strike  out  if  necessary  for  what- 
soever is  true,  and  manly,  and  lovely,  and  of  good  report ; 
never  try  to  be  popular,  but  only  to  do  your  duty  and  help 
others  to  do  theirs,  and  you  may  leave  the  tone  of  feeling 
in  the  school  higher  than  you  found  it,  and  so  be  doing 
good,  which  no  living  soul  can  measure,  to  generations  of 
your  countrymen  yet  unborn.  For  boys  follow  one  another 
in  herds  like  sheep,  for  good  or  evil ; they  hate  thinking, 
and  have  rarely  any  settled  principles.  Every  school,  in- 
deed, has  its  own  traditionary  standard  of  right  and  wrong, 
which  cannot  be  transgressed  with  impunity,  marking  cer- 
tain things  as  low  and  blackguard,  and  certain  others  as 
lawful  and  right.  This  standard  is  ever  varying,  though  it 
changes  only  slowly,  and  little  by  little  ; and,  subject  only 
to  such  standard,  it  is  the  leading  boys  for  the  time  being 
who  give  the  tone  to  all  the  rest,  and  make  the  school 
either  a noble  institution  for  the  training  of  Christian  En- 
glishmen, or  a place  where  a young  boy  will  get  more  evil 
than  he  would  if  he  were  turned  out  to  make  his  way  in 
London  streets,  or  anything  between  these  two  extremes. 

The  change  for  the  worse  in  the  school-house,  however, 
didn’t  press  very  heavily  on  our  youngsters  for  some  time  ; 
they  were  in  a good  bedroom,  where  slept  the  only  prae- 
postor left  who  was  able  to  keep  thorough  order,  and  their 


130 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


study  was  in  his  passage  ; so,  though  they  were  fagged 
more  or  less,  and  occasionally  kicked  or  cuffed  by  the 
bullies,  they  were  on  the  whole  well  off ; and  the  fresh, 
brave  school-life,  so  full  of  games,  adventures  and  good 
fellowship,  so  ready  at  forgetting,  so  capacious  at  enjoy- 
ing, so  bright  at  forecasting,  outweighed  a thousandfold 
their  troubles  with  the  master  of  their  form,  and  the  occa- 
sional ill-usage  of  the  big  boys  in  the  house.  It  wasn’t 
till  some  year  or  so  after  the  events  recorded  above,  that 
the  praepostor  of  their  room  and  passage  left.  None  of 
the  other  sixth-form  boys  would  move  into  their  passage, 
and,  to  the  disgust  and  indignation  of  Tom  and  East,  one 
morning  after  breakfast  they  were  seized  upon  by  Flash- 
man,  and  made  to  carry  down  his  books  and  furniture 
into  the  unoccupied  study  which  he  had  taken.  From 
this  time  they  began  to  feel  the  weight  of  the  tyranny  of 
Flashman  and  his  friends,  and  now  that  trouble  had  come 
home  to  their  own  doors,  began  to  look  out  for  sympa- 
thizers and  partners  among  the  rest  of  the  fags ; and 
meetings  of  the  oppressed  began  to  be  held,  and  murmurs 
to  arise,  and  plots  to  be  laid  as  to  how  they  should  free 
themselves  and  be  avenged  on  their  enemies. 

While  matters  were  in  this  state,  East  and  Tom  were 
one  evening  sitting  in  their  study.  They  had  done  their 
work  for  first  lesson,  and  Tom  was  in  a brown  study, 
brooding,  like  a young  William  Tell,  upon  the  wrongs  of 
fags  in  general,  and  his  own  in  particular. 

“ I say,  Scud,”  said  he  at  last,  rousing  himself  to  snuff 
the  candle,  “what  right  have  the  fifth-form  boys  to  fag  us 
as  they  do  ? ” 

“No  more  right  than  you  have  to  fag  them,”  answered 
East,  without  looking  up  from  an  early  number  of  “ Pick- 
wick,” which  was  just  coming  out,  and  which  he  was  lux- 
uriously devouring,  stretched  on  his  back  on  the  sofa. 

Tom  relapsed  into  his  brown  study,  and  East  went  on 
reading  and  chuckling.  The  contrast  of  the  boys’  faces 
would  have  given  infinite  amusement  to  a looker-on,  the 
one  so  solemn  and  big  with  mighty  purpose,  the  other 
radiant  and  bubbling  over  with  fun. 

“ Do  you  know,  old  fellow,  I’ve  been  a thinking  it  over 
a good  deal,”  began  Tom  again. 

“ ^h  yes,  I know,  fagging  you  are  thinking  of.  Hang 


THE  WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE . 


131 


it  all, — but  listen  here,  Tom — here’s  fun.  Mr.  Winkle’s 
horse ” 

“And  I’ve  made  up  my  mind,”  broke  in  Tom,  a that  I 
won’t  fag  except  for  the  sixth.” 

“ Quite  right  too,  my  boy,”  cried  East,  putting  his  fin- 
ger on  the  place  and  looking  up  ; “ but  a pretty  peck  of 
troubles  you’ll  get  into,  if  you’re  going  to  play  that  game. 
However,  I’m  all  for  a strike  myself,  if  we  can  get  others 
to  join — it’s  getting  too  bad.” 

“ Can’t  we  get  some  sixth-form  fellow  to  take  it  up  ? ” 
asked  Tom. 

“ Well,  perhaps  we  might;  Morgan  would  interfere,  I 
think.  Only,”  added  East,  after  a moment’s  pause,  “ you 
see  we  should  have  to  tell  him  about  it,  and  that’s  against 
school  principles.  Don’t  you  remember  what  old  Brooke 
said  about  learning  to  take  our  own  parts  ? ” 

“ Ah,  I wish  old  Brooke  was  back  again — it  was  all 
right  in  his  time.” 

“ Why,  yes,  you  see  then  the  strongest  and  best  fellows 
were  in  the  sixth,  and  the  fifth-form  fellows  were  afraid  of 
them,  and  they  kept  good  order ; but  now  our  sixth-form 
fellows  are  too  small,  and  the  fifth  don’t  care  for  them, 
and  do  what  they  like  in  the  house.” 

“ And  so  we  get  a double  set  of  masters,”  cried  Tom, 
indignantly ; “ the  lawful  ones,  who  are  responsible  to  the 
Doctor  at  any  rate,  and  the  unlawful — the  tyrants,  who 
are  responsible  to  nobody.” 

“ Down  with  the  tyrants ! ” cried  East ; “ I’m  all  for 
law  and  order,  and  hurrah  for  a revolution.” 

“ I shouldn’t  mind  if  it  were  only  for  young  Brooke 
now,”  said  Tom,  “ he’s  such  a good-hearted,  gentlemanly 
fellow,  and  ought  to  be  in  the  sixth — I’d  do  anything  for 
him.  But  that  blackguard  Flashman,  who  never  speaks 

to  one  without  a kick  or  an  oath ” 

“ The  cowardly  brute,”  broke  in  East,  “ how  I hate  him  ! 
And  he  knows  it  too  ; he  knows  that  you  and  I think  him 
a coward.  What  a bore  that  lie’s  got  a study  in  this  pas- 
sage ! don’t  you  hear  them  now  at  supper  in  his  den  ? 
Brandy  punch  going,  I’ll  bet.  I wish  the  Doctor  would 
come  out  and  catch  him.  We  must  change  our  study  as 
soon  as  we  can.” 

“Change  or  no  change,  I’ll  never  fag  for  him  again,*’ 
said  Tom,  thumping  the  table. 


182 


TOM  BROWN’S  SCHOOL-BAYS 


“ Fa-a-a-ag ! ” sounded  along  the  passage  from  Flash- 
man’s  study.  The  two  boys  looked  at  one  another  in 
silence.  It  had  struck  nine,  so  the  regular  nighr-fags  had 
left  duty,  and  they  were  the  nearest  to  the  supper  party. 
East  sat  up  and  began  to  look  comical,  as  he  always  did 
under  difficulties. 

u Fa-a-a-ag  ! ” again.  No  answer. 

“ Here,  Brown  ! East ! you  cursed  young  skulks,”  roared 
out  Flash  man,  coming  to  his  open  door,  “ I know  you’re 
in — no  shirking.” 

Tom  stole  to  their  door,  and  drew  the  bolts  as  noiselessly 
as  he  could ; East  blew  out  the  candle.  “Barricade  the 
first,”  whispered  he.  “Now,  Tom,  mind,  no  surrender.” 

“ Trust  me  for  that,”  said  Tom  between  his  teeth. 

In  another  minute  they  heard  the  supper-party  turn  out 
and  come  down  the  passage  to  their  door.  They  held  their 
breaths,  and  heard  whispering,  of  which  they  only  made 
out  Flash  man’s  words,  “ I know  the  young  brutes  are  in.” 

Then  came  summonses  to  open  which,  being  unanswered 
the  assault  commenced:  luckily  the  door  was  a good  strong 
oak  one,  and  resisted  the  united  weight  of  Flashman’s 
party.  A pause  followed,  and  they  heard  a besieger  remark, 
“ They’re  in,  safe  enough — don’t  you  see  how  the  door 
holds  at  top  and  bottom?  so  the  bolts  must  be  drawn.  We 
should  have  forced  the  lock  long  ago.”  East  gave  Tom  a 
nudge,  to  call  attention  to  this  scientific  remark. 

Then  came  attacks  on  particular  panels,  one  of  which 
at  last  gave  way  to  the  repeated  kicks ; but  if  broke  in- 
ward, and  the  broken  piece  got  jammed  across,  the  door 
being  lined  with  green  baize,  and  couldn’t  easily  be  re- 
moved from  the  outside  ; and  the  besieged,  scorning  further 
concealment,  strengthened  their  defenses  by  pressing  the 
end  of  their  sofa  against  the  door.  So  after  one  or  two 
more  ineffectual  efforts,  Flashman  & Co.  retired,  vowing 
vengeance  in  no  mild  terms. 

The  first  danger  over,  it  only  remained  for  the  besieged 
to  effect  a safe  retreat,  as  it  was  now  near  bed-time.  They 
listened  intently,  and  heard  the  supper  party  resettle  them- 
selves, and  then  gently  drew  back  first  one  bolt  and  then 
the  other!  Presently  the  convivial  noises  began  again 
steadily.  “Now  then, stand  by  for  a run,” said  East, throw- 
ing the  door  wide  open  and  rushing  into  the  passage, 


THE  WAB  OF  1NDEPEJDEHCE. 


133 


closely  followed  by  Tom.  They  were  too  quick  to  be 
caught ; but  Flashman  was  on  the  look-out,  and  sent  an 
empty  pickle  jar  whizzing  after  them,  which  narrowly 
missed  Tom’s  head,  and  broke  into  twenty  pieces  at  the 
end  of  the  passage.  44  He  wouldn’t  mind  killing  one  if  he 
wasn’t  caught,”  said  East,  as  they  turned  the  corner. 

There  was  no  pursuit,  so  the  two  turned  into  the  hall, 
where  they  found  a knot  of  small  boys  round  the  fire. 
Their  story  was  told — the  war  of  independence  had  broken 
out, — who  would  join  the  revolutionary  forces  ? Several 
others  present  bound  themselves  not  to  fag  for  the  fifth- 
form  at  once.  One  or  two  only  edged  off,  and  left  the 
rebels.  What  else  could  they  do  ? 44  I’ve  a good  mind  to 
go  to  the  Doctor  straight,”  said  Tom. 

“ That’ll  never  do — don’t  you  remember  the  levy  of  the 
school  last  half?  ” put  in  another. 

In  fact,  that  solemn  assembly,  a levy  of  the  school,  had 
been  held,  at  which  the  captain  of  the  school  had  got  up, 
and,  after  premising  that  several  instances  had  occurred  of 
matters  having  been  reported  to  the  masters,  that  this  was 
against  public  morality  and  school  tradition  ; that  a levy  of 
the  sixth  had  been  held  on  the  subject,  and  they  had  re- 
solved that  the  practice  must  be  stopped  at  once  ; had 
given  out  that  any  boy,  in  whatever  form,  who  should 
thenceforth  appeal  to  the  master  without  having  first  gone 
to  some  praepostor  and  laid  the  case  before  him,  should  be 
thrashed  publicly  and  send  to  Coventry. 

46  Well,  then,  let’s  try  the  sixth.  Try  Morgan,”  suggest- 
ed another.  44 No  use” — 44  Blabbing  won’t  do,”  was  the 
general  feeling. 

44  I’ll  give  you  fellows  a piece  of  advice,”  said  a voice 
from  the  end  of  the  hail.  They  all  turned  round  with  a 
start,  and  the  speaker  got  up  from  a bench  on  which  he 
had  been  lying  unobserved,  and  gave  himself  a shake;  he 
was  a big  loose-made  fellow  with  huge  limbs  which  had 
grown  too  far  through  his  jacket  and  trousers.  44  Don’t 
you  go  to  anybody  at  all — you  just  stand  out ; say  you 
won’t  fag — they’ll  soon  get  tired  of  licking  you.  I’ve  tried 
it  on  years  ago  with  their  forerunners.” 

44  No!  did  you?  tell  us  how  it  was,”  cried  a chorus  of 
voices,  as  they  clustered  round  him. 

44  Well,  just  as  it  is  with  you.  The  fifth  form  would 


134 


TOM  BROWN’ 8 SCHOOL-BATS. 


fag  us,  and  I and  some  more  struck,  and  we  beat  ’em. 
The  good  fellows  left  off  directly,  and  the  bullies  who  kept 
on  soon  got  afraid.” 

“ Was  Flashman  here  then  ? ” 

“ Yes  ! and  a dirty  little  sniveling,  sneaking  fellow  he 
was  too.  He  never  dared  join  us,  and  used  to  toady  the 
bullies  by  offering  to  fag  for  them  and  peaching  against 
the  rest  of  us.” 

" Why  wasn’t  he  cut  then  ? ” said  East. 

“ Oh,  toadies  never  get  cut,  they’re  too  useful.  Besides, 
he  has  no  end  of  great  hampers  from  home,  with  wine  and 
game  in  them;  so  he  toadied  and  fed  himself  into  favor.” 

The  quarter-to-ten  bell  now  rang,  and  the  small  boys 
went  off  upstairs  still  consulting  together,  and  praising 
their  new  counselor,  who  stretched  himself  out  on  the 
bench  before  the  hall  fire  again.  There  he  lay,  a very 
queer  specimen  of  boyhood,  by  name  Diggs,  and  familiarly 
called  “ the  mucker.”  He  was  young  for  his  size,  and  a 
very  clever  fellow,  nearly  at  the  top  of  the  fifth.  His 
friends  at  home,  having  regard,  I suppose,  to  his  age,  and 
not  to  his  size  and  place  in  the  school,  hadn’t  put  him  into 
tails  ; and  even  his  jackets  were  always  too  small ; and  he 
had  a talent  for  destroying  clothes,  and  making  himself 
look  shabby.  He  wasn’t  on  terms  with  Flashman ’s  set,  who 
sneered  at  his  dress  and  ways  behind  his  back,  which  he 
knew,  and  revenged  himself  by  asking  Flashman  the  most 
disagreeable  questions,  and  treating  him  familiarly  when- 
ever a crowd  of  boys  were  round  them.  Neither  was  he 
intimate  with  any  of  the  other  bigger  boys,  who  were 
warned  off  by  his  oddnesses,  for  he  was  a very  queer  fellow  ; 
besides,  among  other  failings,  he  had  that  of  impecuniosity 
in  a remarkable  degree.  He  brought  as  much  money  as 
other  boys  to  school,  but  got  rid  of  it  in  no  time,  no  one 
knew  how.  And  then,  being  also  reckless,  borrowed  from 
any  one,  and  when  his  debts  accumulated  and  creditors 
pressed,  would  have  an  auction  in  the  hall  of  everything 
he  possessed  in  the  world,  selling  even  his  school-books, 
candlestick,  and  study  table.  For  weeks  after  one  of  these 
auctions,  having  rendered  his  study  uninhabitable,  he 
would  live  about  in  the  fifth-form  room  and  hall,  doing  his 
verses  on  old  letter-backs  and  odd  scraps  of  paper,  and 
learning  his  lessons  no  one  knew  how.  He  never  meddled 


THE  WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE . 


135 


with  any  little  boy,  and  was  popular  with  them,  though 
they  all  looked  on  him  with  a sort  of  compassion  and  called 
him  “ poor  Diggs,”  not  being  able  to  resist  appearances, 
or  to  disregard  wholly  even  the  sneers  of  their  enemy 
Flashman,,  However,  he  seemed  equally  indifferent  to  the 
sneers  of  big  boys  and  the  pity  of  small  ones,  and  lived  his 
own  queer  life  with  much  apparent  enjoyment  to  himself. 
It  is  necessary  to  introduce  Diggs  thus  particularly,  as  1 ■ 
not  only  did  Tom  and  East  good  service  in  their  present 
warfare,  as  is  about  to  be  told,  but  soon  afterward,  when 
he  got  into  the  sixth,  chose  them  for  his  fags  and  excused 
them  from  study-fagging,  thereby  earning  unto  himself 
eternal  gratitude  from  them,  and  all  who  are  interested  in 
their  history. 

And  seldom  had  small  boys  more  need  of  a freind,  for  the 
morning  after  the  siege  the  storm  burst  upon  the  rebels  in 
all  its  violence.  Flashman  laid  wait,  and  caught  Tom  be- 
fore second  lesson,  and  receiving  a point  blank  “ No,”  when 
told  to  fetch  his  hat,  seized  him  and  twisted  his  arm,  and  went 
through  the  other  methods  of  torture  in  use  : — “ He  couldn’t 
make  me  cry  though,”  as  Tom  said  triumphantly  to  the  rest 
of  the  rebels,  “ and  I kicked  his  shins  well,  I know.”  And 
soon  it  crept  out  that  a lot  of  the  fags  were  in  league,  and 
Flashman  excited  his  associates  to  join  him  in  bringing  the 
young  vagabonds  to  their  senses ; and  the  house  was  filled 
with  constant  chasings,  and  sieges,  and  lickings  of  all  sorts  ; 
and  in  return  the  bullies’  beds  were  pulled  to  pieces,  and 
drenched  with  water,  and  their  names  written  up  on  the 
walls  with  every  insulting  epithet  which  the  fag  invention 
could  furnish.  The  war  in  short  raged  fiercely  ; but  soon, 
as  Diggs  had  told  them,  all  the  better  fellows  in  the  fifth  gave 
up  trying  to  fag  them,  and  public  feeling  began  to  set  against 
Flashman  and  his  two  or  three  intimates,  and  they  were 
obliged  to  keep  their  doings  more  secret,  but  being  thorough 
bad  fellows,  missed  no  opportunity  of  torturing  in  private. 
Flashman  was  an  adept  in  all  ways,  but  above  all  in  the 
power  of  saying  cutting  and  cruel  things,  and  could  often 
bring  tears  to  the  eyes  of  bojrs  in  this  way,  which  all  the 
thrashings  in  the  world  wouldn’t  have  wrung  from  them. 

And  as  his  operations  were  being  cut  short  in  other  di- 
rections, he  now  devoted  himself  chiefly  to  Tom  and  East, 
who  lived  at  his  own  door,  and  would  force  himself  into 


136 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-LAYS. 


their  study  whenever  he  found  a chance,  and  sit  there,  some- 
times alone,  and  sometimes  with  a companion,  interrupting 
all  their  work,  and  exulting  in  the  evident  pain  which  every 
now  and  then  he  could  see  he  was  inflicting  on  one  or  the 
other. 

The  storm  had  cleared  the  air  for  the  rest  of  the  house, 
and  a better  state  of  things  now  began  than  there  had  been 
since  Old-Brooke  had  left;  but  an  angry  dark  spot  of 
thunder-cloud  still  hung  over  the  end  of  the  passage,  where 
Flashman’s  study  and  that  of  East  and  Tom  lay. 

He  felt  that  they  had  been  the  first  rebels,  and  that  the 
rebellion  had  been  to  a great  extent  successful ; but  what 
above  all  stirred  the  hatred  and  bitterness  of  his  heart  against 
them,  was  that  in  the  frequent  collisions  which  there  had  been 
of  late,  they  had  openly  called  him  coward  and  sneak, — the 
taunts  were  too  true  to  be  forgiven.  While  he  was  in  the 
act  of  thrashing  them,  they  would  roar  out  instances  of  his 
funking  football,  or  shirking  some  encounter  with  a lout  of 
half  his  own  size.  These  things  were  all  well  enough  known 
in  the  house,  but  to  have  his  disgrace  shouted  out  by  small 
boys,  to  feel  that  they  despised  him,  to  be  unable  to  silence 
them  by  any  amount  of  torture,  and  to  see  the  open  laugh 
and  sneer  of  his  own  associates  (who  were  looking  on  and 
took  no  trouble  to  hide  their  scorn  from  him,  though  they 
neither  interfered  with  his  bullying  nor  lived  a bit  the  less 
intimately  with  him),  made  him  beside  himself.  Come  what 
might  he  would  make  those  boys’  lives  miserable.  So  the 
strife  settled  down  into  a personal  affair  between  Flashman 
and  our  youngsters ; a war  to  the  knife,  to  be  fought  out  in 
the  little  cockpit  at  the  end  of  the  bottom  passage. 

Flashman,  be  it  said,  was  about  seventeen  years  old,  and 
big  and  strong  of  his  age.  He  played  well  at  all  games 
where  pluck  wasn’t  much  wanted,  and  managed  generally 
to  keep  up  appearances  where  it  was ; and  having  a bluff  off- 
hand manner,  which  passed  for  heartiness,  and  considerable 
powers  of  being  pleasant  when  he  liked,  went  down  with 
the  school  in  general  for  a good  fellow  enough.  Even  in 
the  school-house,  by  dint  of  his  command  of  money,  the 
constant  supply  of  good  things  which  he  kept  up,  and  his 
adroit  toadyism,  he  had  managed  to  make  himself  not  only 
tolerated,  but  rather  popular  among  his  own  contemporaries; 
although  young  Brooke  scarcely  spoke  to  him,  and  one  or 


THE  WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE. 


137 


two  others  of  the  right  sort  showed  their  opinions  of  liinn 
whenever  a chance  offered.  But  the  wrong  sort  happened 
to  be  in  the  ascendant  just  now,  so  Flashman  was  a formid- 
able enemy  for  small  boys.  This  soon  became  plain  enough. 
Flashman  left  no  slander  unspoken,  and  no  deed  undone, 
which  could  in  any  way  hurt  his  victims,  or  isolate  them 
from  the  rest  of  the  house.  One  by  one  most  of  the  other 
rebels  fell  away  from  them,  while  Flashman’s  cause  pros- 
pered and  several  other  fifth-form  boys  began  to  look  black 
at  them  and  ill-treat  them  as  they  passed  about  the  house. 
By  keeping  out  of  bounds,  or  at  all  events  out  of  the  house 
and  quadrangle,  all  day,  and  carefully  barring  themselves 
in  at  night,  East  and  Tom  managed  to  hold  on  without 
feeling  very  miserable;  but  it  was  as  much  as  they  could 
do.  Greatly  were  they  drawn  then  toward  old  Diggs,  who, 
in  an  uncouth  way,  began  to  take  a good  deal  of  notice  of 
them,  and  once  or  twice  came  to  their  study  when  Flash- 
man  was  there,  who  immediately  decamped  in  consequence. 
The  boys  thought  that  Diggs  must  have  been  watching. 

When,  therefore,  about  this  time,  an  auction  was  one 
night  announced  to  take  place  in  the  hall,  at  which,  among 
the  superfluities  of  other  boys,  all  Diggs’s  penates  for  the 
time  being  were  going  to  the  hammer,  East  and  Tom  laid 
their  heads  together,  and  resolved  to  devote  their  ready 
cash  (some  four  shillings  sterling)  to  redeem  such  articles 
as  that  sum  would  cover.  Accordingly,  they  duly  attended 
to  bid,  and  Tom  became  the  owner  of  two  lots  of  Diggs’s 
things ; — lot  1,  price  on e-and- threepence,  consisting  (as  the 
auctioneer  remarked)  of  a “ valuable  assortment  of  old 
metals,”  in  the  shape  of  a mouse-trap,  a cheese-toaster 
without  a handle,  and  a saucepan : lot  2,  of  a villainous 
dirty  table-cloth  and  a green-baize  curtain ; while  East  for 
one-and-sixpence  purchased  a leather  paper-case,  with  a 
lock  but  no  key,  once  handsome,  but  now  much  the  worse 
for  wear.  But  they  had  still  the  point  to  settle  of  how  to 
get  Diggs  to  take  the  things  without  hurting  his  feelings. 
This  they  solved  by  leaving  them  in  his  study,  which  was 
never  locked  when  he  was  out.  Diggs,  who  had  attended 
the  auction,  remembered  who  had  bought  the  lots,  and 
came  to  their  study  soon  after,  and  sat  silent  for  some  time, 
cracking  his  great  red  finger-joints.  Then  he  laid  hold  of 
their  verses,  and  began  looking  over  and  altering  them, 


138 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCIIOOL-DA  YS. 


and  at  last  got  up,  and  turning  his  back  to  them,  said, 
“ You’re  uncommon  good-hearted  little  beggars,  you  two 
— I value  that  paper-case  ; my  sister  gave  it  me  last  holi- 
days— I won’t  forget;  ” and  so  tumbled  out  into  the  pas- 
sage, leaving  them  somewhat  embarrassed,  but  not  sorry 
that  he  knew  what  they  had  done. 

The  next  morning  was  Saturday,  the  day  on  which  the 
allowances  of  one  shilling  a-week  were  paid,  an  important 
event  to  spendthrift  youngsters  ; and  great  was  the  disgust 
among  the  small  fry  to  hear  that  all  the  allowances  had 
been  impounded  for  the  Derby  lottery.  That  great  event 
in  the  English  year,  the  Derby,  was  celebrated  at  Rugby 
in  those  days  by  many  lotteries.  It  was  not  an  improving 
custom,  I own,  gentle  reader,  and  led  to  making  books  and 
betting  and  other  objectionable  results;  but  when  our 
great  Houses  of  Palaver  think  it  right  to  stop  the  nation’s 
business  on  that  day,  and  many  of  the  members  bet  heavily 
themselves,  can  you  blame  us  boys  for  following  the 
example  of  our  betters? — at  any  rate  we  did  follow  it. 
First  there  was  the  great  school  lottery,  where  the  first 
prize  was  six  or  seven  pounds ; then  each  house  had  one 
or  more  separate  lotteries.  These  were  all  nominally 
voluntary,  no  boy  being  compelled  to  put  in  his  shilling 
who  didn’t  choose  to  do  so : but  besides  Flashman,  there 
were  three  or  four  other  fast  sporting  young  gentlemen  in 
the  school-house,  who  considered  subscription  a matter  of 
duty  and  necessity,  and  so,  to  make  their  duty  come  easy 
to  the  small  boys,  quietly  secured  the  allowances  in  a lump 
when  given  out  for  distribution,  and  kept  them.  It  was 
no  use  grumbling, — so  many  fewer  tartlets  and  apples  were 
eaten  and  fives’-balls  bought  on  that  Saturday;  and  after 
locking-up,  when  the  money  would  otherwise  have  been 
spent,  consolation  was  carried  to  many  a small  boy,  by  the 
sound  of  the  night  fags  shouting  along  the  passages, 
u Gentlemen  sportsmen  of  the  school-house,  the  lottery’s 
going  to  be  drawn  in  the  hall.”  It  was  pleasant  to  be 
called  a gentleman  sportsman — also  to  have  a chance  of 
drawing  a favorite  horse. 

The  hall  was  full  of  boys,  and  at  the  head  of  one  of  the 
long  tables  stood  the  sporting  interest,  with  a hat  before 
them,  in  which  were  the  tickets  folded  up.  One  of  them 
then  began  calling  out  the  list  of  the  house  ; each  boy  as 


THE  WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE . 


139 


his  name  was  called  drew  a ticket  from  the  hat  and  open- 
ed it ; and  most  of  the  bigger  boys,  after  drawing,  left  the 
hall  directly,  to  go  back  to  their  studies  or  the  fifth-form 
room.  The  sporting  interest  had  all  drawn  blanks,  and 
they  were  sulky  accordingly ; neither  of  the  favorites  had 
yet  been  drawn,  and  it  had  come  down  to  the  upper-fourth. 
So  now,  as  each  small  boy  came  up  and  drew  his  ticket,  it 
was  seized  and  opened  by  Flashman,  or  some  other  of  the 
standers-by.  But  no  great  favorite  is  drawn  until  it  comes 
to  the  Tadpole’s  turn,  and  he  shuffles  up  and  draws,  and 
tries  to  make  off,  but  is  caught,  and  his  ticket  is  opened 
like  the  rest. 

“Here  you  are  ! Wanderer!  the  third  favorite,”  shouts 
the  opener. 

“ I say,  just  give  me  my  ticket,  please,”  remonstrates 
Tadpole. 

“Hullo,  don’t  be  in  a hurry,”  breaks  in  Flashman; 
“ what’ll  you  sell  Wanderer  for,  now?  ” 

“I  don’t  want  to  sell,”  rejoins  Tadpole. 

“ Oh,  don’t  you  ! Now  listen,  you  young  fool — you  don’t 
know  anything  about  it ; the  horse  is  no  use  to  you.  He 
won’t  win,  but  I want  him  as  a hedge.  Now  I’ll  give  you 
half  a-crown  for  him.”  Tadpole  holds  out,  but  between 
threats  and  cajoleries  at  length  sells  half  for  one-shilling- 
and-sixpence,  about  a fifth  of  its  fair  market  value ; however, 
he  is  glad  to  realize  anything,  and  as  he  wisely  remarks, 
“ Wanderer  mayn’t  win,  and  the  tizzy  is  safe  anyhow.” 

East  presently  comes  up  and  draws  a blank.  Soon  after 
comes  Tom’s  turn ; his  ticket,  like  the  others,  is  seized 
and  opened.  “ Here  you  are  then,”  shouts  the  opener, 
holding  it  up,  “ Harkaway  ? By  Jove,  Flashey,  your 
young  friend’s  in  luck.” 

“ Give  me  the  ticket,”  says  Flashman  with  an  oath, 
leaning  across  the  table  with  open  hand,  and  his  face  black 
with  rage. 

“Wouldn’t  you  like  it?”  replies  the  opener,  not  a bad 
fellow  at  the  bottom,  and  no  admirer  of  Flashman’s.  “ Here, 
Brown,  catch  hold,  ” and  he  bands  the  ticket  to  Tom,  who 
pockets  it ; whereupon  Flashman  makes  for  the  door  at  once, 
that  Tom  and  the  ticket  may  not  escape,  and  there  keeps 
watch  until  the  drawing  is  over  and  all  the  boys  are  gone, 
except  the  sporting  set  of  five  or  six,  who  stay  to  compare 


140 


TOM  BROWWS  SCHOOL-BAYS. 


books,  make  bets  and  so  on,  Tom,  who  doesn’t  choose  to 
move  while  Flash  man  is  at  the  door,  and  East,  who  stays 
by  his  friend,  anticipating  trouble. 

The  sporting  set  now  gathered  round  Tom.  Public  opin- 
ion wouldn’t  allow  them  actually  to  rob  him  of  his  ticket, 
but  any  humbug  or  intimidation  by  which  he  could  be 
driven  to  sell  the  whole  or  part  at  an  under  value  was  law- 
ful. 

“ Now,  young  Brown,  come,  what’ll  you  sell  me  Hark- 
away  for  ? I hear  he  isn’t  going  to  start.  I’ll  give  you  five 
shillings  for  him,”  begins  the  boy  who  had  opened  the  tick- 
et. Tom,  remembering  his  good  deed,  and  moreover  in  his 
forlorn  state  wishing  to  make  a friend,  is  about  to  accept 
the  offer,  when  another  cries  out,  44  I’ll  give  you  seven 
shillings.”  Tom  hesitated,  and  looked  from  one  to  the 
other. 

“No,  no ! ” said  Flashman,  pushing  in,  “leave  me  to  deal 
with  him ; we’ll  draw  lots  for  it  afterward.  Now,  sir,  you 
know  me — you’ll  sell  Harkaway  to  us  for  five  shillings,  or 
you’ll  repent  it.” 

“ I won’t  sell  a bit  of  him,”  answered  Tom  shortly. 

“You  hear  that  now!”  said  Flashman,  turning  to  the 
others. 

“ He’s  the  coxiest  young  blackguard  in  the  house — I al- 
ways told  you  so.  We’re  to  have  all  the  trouble  and  risk 
of  getting  up  the  lotteries  for  the  benefit  of  such  fellows  as 
he.” 

Flashman  forgets  to  explain  what  risk  they  ran,  but  he 
speaks  to  willing  ears.  Gambling  makes  boys  selfish  and 
cruel  as  well  as  men. 

“ That’s  true, — we  always  draw  blanks,”  cried  one. 
“ Now,  sir,  you  shall  sell  half,  at  any  rate.” 

“ I won’t,”  said  Tom,  flushing  upto  his  hair,  and  lumping 
them  all  in  his  mind  with  his  sworn  enemy. 

“Very  well  then,  let’s  roast  him,”  cried  Flashman,  and 
catches  hold  of  Tom  by  the  collar ; one  or  two  boys  hesi- 
tate, but  the  rest  join  in.  East  seizes  Tom’s  arm  and  tries 
to  pull  him  away,  but  is  knocked  back  by  one  of  the  boys, 
and  Tom  is  dragged  along,  struggling.  His  shoulders  are 
pushed  against  the  mantelpiece,  and  he  is  held  by  main 
force  before  the  fire,  Flashman  drawing  his  trousers  tight 
by  way  of  extra  torture.  Poor  East,  in  more  pain  even 


THE  WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE . 


141 


than  Tom,  suddenly  thinks  of  Diggs,  and  darts  off  to  find 
him.  44  Will  you  sell  now  for  ten  shillings?  ” says  one  boy 
who  is  relenting. 

Tom  only  answered  by  groans  and  struggles. 

44 1 say,  Flashey  he  has  had  enough,”  says  the  same  boy, 
dropping  the  arm  he  holds. 

“No,  no;  another  turn’ll  do  it,”  answered  Flashman. 
But  poor  Tom  is  done  already,  turns  deadly  pale,  and  his 
head  falls  forward  on  his  breast,  just  as  Diggs,  in  frantic  ex- 
citement, rushes  into  the  hall  with  East  at  his  heels. 

“ You  cowardly  brutes ! ” is  all  he  can  say,  as  he  catches 
Tom  from  them  and  supports  him  to  the  hall  table. 
“ Good  God  ! he’s  dying.  Here,  get  some  cold  water — run 
for  the  housekeeper.” 

Flashman  and  one  or  two  others  slink  away ; the  rest, 
ashamed  and  sorry,  bend  over  Tom  or  run  for  water,  while 
East  darts  off  for  the  housekeeper.  Water  comes,  and  they 
throw  it  on  his  hands  and  face,  and  he  begins  to  come  to. 
“ Mother  ! ” — the  words  came  feebly  and  slowly — “ It’s  very 
cold  to-night.”  Poor  old  Diggs  is  blubbering  like  a child. 
“ Where  am  I ? ” goes  on  Tom,  opening  his  eyes.  “ Ah  ! I 
remember  now,”  and  he  shut  his  eyes  again  and  groaned. 

“ I say,”  is  whispered,  “ we  can’t  do  any  good,  and  the 
housekeeper  will  be  here  in  a minute,”  and  all  but  one 
steal  away ; he  stays  with  Diggs,  silent  and  sorrowful,  and 
fans  Tom’s  face. 

The  housekeeper  comes  in  with  strong  salts,  and  Tom 
soon  recovers  enough  to  sit  up.  There  is  a smell  of  burn- 
ing: she  examines  his  clothes,  and  looks  up  inquiringly. 
The  boys  are  silent.  “ How  did  he  come  so  ! ” No  answer. 

“ There’s  been  some  bad  work  here,”  she  adds,  looking 
very  serious,  44  and  I shall  speak  to  the  Doctor  about  it.” 
Still  no  answer. 

“ Hadn’t  we  better  carry  him  to  the  sick  room  ? ” sug- 
gests Diggs. 

“ Oh,  I can  walk  now,”  says  Tom ; and,  supported  by 
East  and  the  housekeeper,  goes  to  the  sick  room.  The  boy 
who  held  his  ground  is  soon  among  the  rest,  who  are  all  in 
the  fear  of  their  lives.  “ Did  he  peach  ? Does  she  know 
about  it  ? ” 

“ Not  a word — he’s  a stanch  little  fellow.”  And  pausing 
a moment  he  adds,  “ I’m  sick  of  this  work  : what  brutes  we 
have  been  ! ” 


142 


TOM  BBOWN’S  S CHOOL-DA  T 8. 


Meantime  Tom  is  stretched  on  the  sofa  in  the  house* 
keeper’s  room,  with  East  by  his  side,  while  she  gets  wine 
and  water  and  other  restoratives. 

“ Are  you  much  hurt,  dear  old  boy  ? ” whispers  East. 

“ Only  the  back  of  my  legs,”  answered  Tom.  They  are 
indeed  badly  scorched,  and  part  of  his  trousers  burnt 
through.  But  soon  he  is  in  bed  wnth  cold  bandages. 
At  first  he  feels  broken,  and  thinks  of  writing  home  and 
getting  taken  away:  and  the  verse  of  the  hymn  he  had 
learned  years  ago  sings  through  his  head,  and  he  goes  to 
sleep,  murmuring 

here  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling, 

And  the  weary  are  at  rest. 

But  after  a sound  night’s  rest  the  old  boy-spirit  comes 
back  again.  East  comes  in  reporting  that  that  whole 
house  is  with  him,  and'  he  forgets  everything  except  their 
old  resolve  never  to  be  beaten  by  that  bully  Flashman. 

Not  a word  could  the  housekeeper  extract  from  either 
of  them,  and  though  the  Doctor  knew  all  that  she  knew 
that  morning,  he  never  knew  any  more. 

I trust  and  believe  that  such  scenes  are  not  possible  now 
at  school,  and  that  lotteries  and  betting-books  have  gone 
out ; but  I am  writing  of  schools  as  they  were  in  our  time, 
and  must  give  the  evil  with  the  good. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS. 

Wherein  I [speak]  of  most  disastrous  chances 
Of  moving  accidents  by  flood  and  field, 

Of  hairbreadth  ’scapes. — Shakespeare . 

When  Tom  came  back  into  school  after  a couple  of  days 
in  the  sick-room,  he  found  matters  much  changed  for  the 
better,  as  East  had  led  him  to  expect.  Flashman’s  brutali- 
ty had  disgusted  most  even  of  his  intimate  friends,  and  his 
cowardice  had  once  more  been  made  plain  to  the  house  ; 
for  Diggs  had  encountered  him  on  the  morning  after  the 
lottery,  and  after  high  words  on  both  sides  had  struck  him, 
$,nd  the  blow  was  not  returned.  However,  Flashey  was  not 


A CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS. 


143 


unused  to  this  sort  of  thing,  and  had  lived  through  as  awk- 
ward affairs  before,  and,  as  Diggs  had  said,  fed  and  toadied 
himself  back  into  favor  again.  Two  or  three  of  the  boys 
who  had  helped  to  roast  Torn  came  up  and  begged  his  par- 
don, and  thanked  him  for  not  telling  anything.  Morgan 
sent  for  him,  and  was  inclined  to  take  the  matter  up  warm- 
ly, but  Tom  begged  him  not  to  do  it ; to  which  he  agreed 
on  Tom’s  promising  to  come  to  him  at  once  in  future — a 
promise  which  I regret  to  say  he  didn’t  keep.  Tom  kept 
Harkaway  all  to  himself,  and  won  the  second  prize  in  the 
lottery,  some  thirty  shillings,  which  he  and  East  contrived 
to  spend  in  about  three  days,  in  the  purchase  of  pictures 
for  their  study,  two  new  bats  and  a cricket-ball,  all  the  best 
that  could  be  got,  and  a supper  of  sausages,  -kidneys,  and 
beef-steak  pies  to  all  the  rebels.  Light  come,  light  go  ; 
they  wouldn’t  have  been  comfortable  with  money  in  their 
pockets  in  the  middle  of  the  half. 

The  embers  of  Flashman’s  wrath,  however,  were  still 
smoldering,  and  burst  out  every  now  and  then  in  sly  blows 
and  taunts,  and  they  both  felt  that  they  hadn’t  quite  done 
with  him  yet.  It  wasn’t  long,  however,  before  the  last  act 
of  that  drama  came,  and  with  it,  the  end  of  bullying  for 
Tom  and  East  at  Rugby.  They  now  often  stole  out  into 
the  hall  at  nights,  incited  thereto,  partly  by  the  hope  of 
finding  Diggs  there  and  having  a talk  with  him,  partly  by 
the  excitement  of  doing  something  which  was  against 
rules  ; for,  sad  to  say,  both  of  our  youngsters,  since  their 
loss  of  character  for  steadiness  in  their  form,  had  got  into 
the  habit  of  doing  things  which  were  forbidden,  as  a mat- 
ter of  adventure  ; just  in  the  same  way,  I should  fancy,  as 
men  fall  into  smuggling,  and  for  the  same  sort  of  reasons. 
Thoughtlessness  in  the  first  place.  It  never  occurred  to 
them  to  consider  why  such  and  such  rules  were  laid  down ; 
the  reason  was  nothing  to  them  ; and  they  only  looked 
upon  rules  as  a sort  of  challenge  from  the  rule-makers, 
which  it  would  be  rather  bad  pluck  in  them  not  to  accept  ; 
and  then  again,  in  the  lower  parts  of  the  school  they  hadn’t 
enough  to  do.  The  work  of  the  form  they  could  manage 
to  get  through  pretty  easily,  keeping  a good  enough  place 
to  get  their  regular  yearly  remove ; and  not  having  much 
ambition  beyond  this,  their  whole  superfluous  steam  was 
available  for  games  and  scrapes.  Now,  one  rule  of  the  house 


144 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS . 


which  it  was  a daily  pleasure  of  all  such  boys  to  break, 
was  that  after  supper  all  fags,  except  the  three  on  duty  in 
the  passages,  should  remain  in  their  own  studies  until  nine 
o’clock  ; and  if  caught  about  the  passages  or  hall,  or  in  one 
another’s  studies,  they  were  liable  to  punishments  or  can- 
ing. The  rule  was  stricter  than  its  observance  : for  most 
of  the  sixth  spent  their  evenings  in  the  fifth-form  room,, 
where  the  library  was,  and  the  lessons  were  learned  in  com- 
mon. Every  now  and  then,  however,  a praepostor  would  be 
seized  with  a fit  of  district  visiting,  and  would  make  a tour 
of  the  passages  and  hall  and  the  fags’  studies.  Then,  if  the 
owner  were  entertaining  a friend  or  two,  the  first  kick  at 
the  door  and  ominous  44  Open  here,”  had  the  effect  of  the 
shadow  of  a hawk  over  a chicken-yard  , every  one  cut  to 
cover — one  small  boy  diving  under  the  sofa,  another  under 
the  table,  while  the  owner  would  hastily  pull  down  a book 
or  two  and  open  them,  and  cry  out  in  a meek  voice.  44  Hul- 
lo, who’s  there?”  casting  an  anxious  eye  round  to  see 
that  no  protruding  leg  or  elbow  could  betray  the  hidden 
boys.  44  Open,  sir,  directly  ; it’s  Snooks  ; ” 44  Oh,  I’m  very 
sorry  ; I didn’t  know  it  was  you,  Snooks  ; ” and  then,  with 
well-feigned  zeal,  the  door  would  be  opened,  young  hope- 
ful praying  that  that  beast  Snooks  mightn’t  have  heard  the 
scuffle  caused  by  his  coming.  If  a study  was  empty,  Snooks 
proceeded  to  draw  the  passages  and  hall  to  find  the  truants. 

Well,  one  evening,  in  forbidden  hours,  Tom  and  East 
were  in  the  hall.  They  occupied  the  seats  before  the  fire 
nearest  the  door,  while  Diggs  sprawled  as  usual  before  the 
further  fire.  He  was  busy  with  a copy  of  verses,  and  East 
and  Tom  were  chatting  together  in  whispers  by  the  light 
of  the  fire,  and  splicing  a favorite  old  fives-bat  which  had 
sprung.  Presently  a step  came  down  the  bottom  passage  ; 
they  listened  a moment,  assured  themselves  that  it  wasn’t  a 
praepostor,  and  then  went  on  with  their  work,  and  the  door 
swung  open,  and  in  walked  Flashman.  He  didn’t  see  Diggs 
and  thought  it  a good  chance  to  keep  his  hand  in  ; and  as 
the  boys  didn’t  move  for  him,  struck  one  of  them,  to  make 
them  get  out  of  his  way. 

44  What’s  that  for  ? ” growled  the  assaulted  one. 

44  Because  I choose.  You’ve  no  business  here ; goto  your 
study.” 

44  You  can’t  send  us.” 


A CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS. 


145 


44  Can’t  I ? Then  I’ll  thrash  you  if  you  stay,”  said  Flash- 
man  savagely. 

46 1 say,  you  two,”  said  Diggs,  from  the  end  of  the  hall, 
rousing  up  and  resting  himself  on  his  elbow,  44  you’ll  never 
get  rid  of  that  fellow  till  you  lick  him.  Go  in  at  him,  both 
of  you — I’ll  see  fair  play.” 

Flashman  was  taken  aback,  and  retreated  two  steps. 
East  looked  at  Tom.  44  Shall  we  try  ? ” said  he.  44  Yes,” 
said  Tom,  desperately.  So  the  two  advanced  on  Flashman, 
with  clenched  fists  and  beating  hearts.  They  were  about 
up  to  his  shoulder,  but  tough  boys  of  their  age,  and  in  per- 
fect training : while  he,  though  strong  and  big,  was  in  poor 
condition,  from  his  monstrous  habit  of  stuffing  and  want 
of  exercise.  Coward  as  he  was,  however,  Flashman  couldn’t 
swallow  such  an  insult  as  this ; besides,  he  was  confident 
of  having  easy  work,  and  so  faced  the  boys,  saying,  44  You 
impudent  young  blackguards ! ” — Before  he  could  finish 
his  abuse  they  rushed  in  on  him,  and  began  pummeling  at 
all  of  him  which  they  could  reach.  He  hit  out  wildly  and 
savagely,  but  the  full  force  of  his  blows  didn’t  tell,  they 
were  too  near  him.  It  was  long  odds,  though  in  point  of 
strength,  and  in  another  minute  Tom  went  spinning  back- 
ward over  a form,  and  Flashman  turned  to  demolish  East, 
with  a savage  grin.  But  now  Diggs  jumped  down  from 
the  table  on  which  he  had  seated  himself. 

44  Stop  there,”  shouted  he  : 44  the  round’s  over — half-min- 
ute time  allowed.” — 

44  What  the is  it  to  you  ? ” faltered  Flashman,  who 

began  to  lose  heart. 

44  I’m  going  to  see  fair,  I tell  you,”  said  Diggs  with  a grin 
and  snapping  his  great  red  fingers;  44 ’taint  fair  for  yon  to 
be  fighting  one  of  them  at  a time.  Are  you  ready,  Brown? 
Time’s  up.” 

The  small  boys  rushed  in  again.  Closing  they  saw  was 
their  best  chance,  and  Flashman  was  wilder  and  more 
flurried  than  ever  : he  caught  East  by  the  throat,  and  tried 
to  force  him  back  on  the  iron-bound  table  ; Tom  grasped 
his  waist,  and,  remembering  the  old  throw  he  had  learned 
in  the  Vale  from  Harry  Winburn,  crooked  his  leg  inside 
Flashman’s,  and  threw  his  whole  weight  forward.  The 
three  tottered  for  a moment,  and  then  over  they  went  on 
to  the  floor,  Flashman  striking  his  head  against  a form  in 
the  hall.  — 


146 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-BAYS. 


The  two  youngsters  sprang  to  their  legs,  but  he  lay 
there  still.  They  began  to  be  frightened.  Tom  stooped 
down,  and  then  cried  out,  scared  out  of  his  wits.  “lie's 
bleeding  awfully;  come  here,  East,  Diggs,— he’s  dying!” 

44  Nut  he,”  said  Diggs,  getting  leisurely  off  the  table ; 
44  It’s  all  sham — he’s  only  afraid  to  fight  it  out.” 

East  was  as  frightened  as  Tom  Diggs  lifted  Flashman’s 
head,  and  he  groaned. 

“ What’s  the  matter  ? ” shouted  Diggs. 

44  My  skull’s  fractured,”  sobbed  Flashman. 

44  Oh,  let  me  run  for  the  housekeeper,”  cried  Tom. 
44  What  shall  we  do  ? ” 

Fiddlesticks  ! it’s  nothing  but  the  skin  broken,”  said  the 
relentless  Diggs,  feeling  his  head.  44  Cold  water  and  a bit 
of  rag’s  all  he’ll  want.” 

44 Let  me  go,”  said  Flashman,  surlily,  sitting  up;  44 1 
don’t  want  your  help.” 

44  We’re  really  very  sorry,”  began  East. 

44  Hang  your  sorrow,”  answered  Flashman,  holding  his 
handkerchief  to  the  place  , 44  you  shall  pay  for  this,  I can 
tell  you,  both  of  you.”  And  he  walked  out  of  the  hall. 

44  He  can’t  be  very  bad,”  said  Tom  with  a deep  sigh, 
much  relieved  to  see  his  enemy  march  so  well. 

44  Not  he,”  said  Diggs,  44  And  you’ll  see  you  won’t  be 
troubled  with  him  any  more.  But,  I say.  your  head’s 
broken  too — your  collar  is  covered  with  blood  ” 

44  Is  it,  though  ? ” said  Tom,  putting  up  his  hand  : 44 1 
didn’t  know  it.” 

44  Well,  mop  it  up,  or  jmu’ll  have  }^our  jacket  spoilt.  And 
you  have  got  a nasty  eye,  Scud ; you’d  better  go  and 
bathe  it  well  in  cold  water.” 

44  Cheap  enough  too,  if  we’ve  done  with  our  old  friend 
Flashey,”  said  East,  as  they  made  off  up  stairs  to  bathe 
their  wounds. 

They  had  done  with  Flashman  in  one  sense  for  he  never 
laid  finger  on  either  of  them  again  ; but  whatever  harm  a 
spiteful  heart  and  venomous  tongue  could  do  them  he  took 
care  should  be  done.  Only  throw  dirt  enough,  and  some 
of  it  is  sure  to  stick  ; and  so  it  w7as  with  the  fifth-form  and 
the  bigger  boys  in  general,  with  whom  he  associated  more 
or  less,  and  they  not  at  all.  Flashman  managed  to  get 
Tom  and  East  into  disfavor,  which  did  not  wear  off  for 


A CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS. 


147 


some  time  after  the  author  of  it  had  disappeared  from  the 
school  world.  This  event,  much  prayed  for  by  the  small 
fry  in  general,  took  place  a few  months  after  the  above 
encounter.  One  fine  summer  evening  Flashman  had  been 
regaling  himself  on  gin-punch,  at  Brownsover ; and  having 
exceeded  his  usual  limits,  started  home  uproarious.  He 
fell  in  with  a friend  or  two  coming  back  from  bathing, 
proposed  a glass  of  beer,  to  which  they  assented,  the 
weather  being  hot,  and  they,  thirsty  souls,  and  unaware  of 
the  quantity  of  drink  which  Flashman  had  already  on 
board.  The  short  result  was,  that  Flashey  became  beastly 
drunk ; they  tried  to  get  him  along,  but  couldn’t ; so  they 
chartered  a hurdle  and  two  men  to  carry  him.  One  of 
the  masters  came  upon  them,  and  they  naturally  enough 
fled.  The  flight  of  the  rest  raised  the  master’s  suspicions, 
and  the  good  angel  of  the  fags  incited  him  to  examine  the 
freight,  and,  after  examination,  to  convoy  the  hurdle  him- 
self up  to  the  school-house  ; and  the  Doctor,  who  had  long 
had  his  eye  on  Flashman,  arranged  for  his  withdrawal 
next  morning. 

The  evil  that  men,  and  boys  too,  do,  lives  after  them  ; 
Flashman  was  gone,  but  our  boys,  as  hinted  above,  still 
felt  the  effects  of  his  hate.  Besides  they  had  been  the 
movers  of  the  strike  against  unlawful  fagging.  The 
cause  was  righteous — the  result  had  been  triumphant  to  a 
great  extent ; but  the  best  of  the  fifth,  even  those  who  had 
never  fagged  the  small  boys,  or  had  given  up  the  practice 
cheerfully,  couldn’t  help  feeling  a small  grudge  against 
the  first  rebels.  After  all  their  form  had  been  defied — on 
just  grounds,  no  doubt;  so  just,  indeed,  that  they  had  at 
once  acknowledged  the  wrong  and  remained  passive  in  the 
strife  : had  they  sided  with  Flashman  and  his  set,  the  rebels 
must  have  given  away  at  once.  They  couldn’t  help,  on 
the  whole,  being  glad  that  they  had  so  acted,  and  that  the 
resistance  had  been  successful  against  such  of  their  own 
form  as  had  shown  fight ; they  felt  that  law  and  order  had 
gained  thereby,  but  the  ringleaders  they  couldn’t  quite 
pardon  at  once.  “ Confoundedly  coxy  those  young  rascals 
will  get,  if  we  don’t  mind,”  was  the  general  feeling. 

So  it  is,  and  must  be  always,  my  dear  boys.  If  the 
angel  Gabriel  were  to  come  down  from  heaven,  and  head  a 
successful  rise  against  the  most  abominable  and  unright- 


148 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-BATS. 


eous  vested  interest, which  this  poor  old  world  groans  under, 
he  would  most  certainly  lose  his  character  for  many  years, 
probably  for  centuries,  not  only  with  upholders  of  said 
vested  interest,  but  with  the  respectable  mass  of  the  peo- 
ple whom  he  had  delivered.  They  wouldn’t  ask  him  to 
dinner,  or  let  their  names  appear  with  his  in  the  papers; 
they  would  be  very  careful  how  they  spoke  of  him  in  the 
Palaver,  or  at  their  clubs.  What  can  we  expect,  then, 
when  we  have  only  poor  gallant  blundering  men  like  Kos- 
suth, Garibaldi,  Mazzini,  and  righteous  causes  which  do 
not  triumph  in  their  hands ; men  who  have  holes  enough 
in  their  armor,  God  knows,  easy  to  be  hit  by  respectabili- 
ties sitting  in  their  lounging  chairs,  and  having  large  bal- 
ances at  their  bankers  ? But  you  are  brave,  gallant  boys, 
who  hate  easy-chairs,  and  have  no  balances  or  bankers. 
You  only  want  to  have  your  head  set  straight  to  take  the 
right  side : so  bear  in  mind  that  majorities,  especially 
respectable  ones,  are  nine  times  out  of  ten  in  the  wrong ; 
and  that  if  you  see  a man  or  boy  striving  earnestly  on  the 
weak  side,  however  wrong-headed  or  blundering  he  may 
be,  you  are  not  to  go  and  join  the  cry  against  him.  If  you 
can’t  join  him  and  help  him,  and  make  him  wiser,  at  any 
rate  remember  that  he  has  found  something  in  the  world 
which  he  will  fight  and  suffer  for,  which  is  just  what  you 
have  got  to  do  for  yourselves;  and  so  think  and  speak  of 
him  tenderly. 

So  East  and  Tom,  the  Tadpole,  and  one  or  two  more, 
became  a sort  of  young  Ishmaelites,  their  hands  against 
everyone,  and  every  one's  hand  against  them.  It  has  been 
already  told  how  they  got  to  war  with  the  masters  and  the 
fifth-form,  and  with  the  sixth  it  was  much  the  same.  They 
saw  the  praepostors  cowed  by  or  joining  with  the  fifth,  and 
shirking  their  own  duties;  so  they  didn’t  respect  them, 
and  rendered  no  willing  obedience.  It  had  been  one  thing 
to  clean  out  studies  for  sons  of  heroes  like  old  Brooke,  but 
quite  another  to  do  the  like  for  Snooks  and  Green,  who 
had  never  faced  a good  scrummage  at  football,  and  couldn’t 
keep  the  passages  in  order  at  night.  So  they  only  slurred 
through  their  fagging  just  well  enough  to  escape  a licking, 
and  not  always  that,  and  got  the  character  of  sulky,  un- 
willing fags.  In  the  fifth  form  room,  after  supper,  when 
such  matters  were  often  discussed  and  arranged,  their 
names  were  forever  coming  up. 


A CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS. 


149 


“I  say,  Green,”  Snooks  began  one  night,  “isn’t  that  new 
boy,  Harrison,  your  fag  ? ” 

“ Yes  ; why  ? ” 

44  Oh,  I know  something  of  him  at  home,  and  should  like 
to  excuse  him — will  you  swap  ? ” 

44  Who  will  you  give  me  ? ” 

44  Well,  let’s  see;  there’s  Willis,  Johnson — no,  that  won’t 
do.  Yes,  I have  it  — there’s  young  East,  I’ll  give  you 
him.” 

44  Don’t  you  wish  you  may  get  it  ? ” replied  Green.  44  I’ll 
tell  you  what  I’ll  do — I’ll  give  you  two  for  Willis,  if  you 
like.” 

44  Who,  then  ? ” asks  Snooks. 

44  Hall  and  Brown.” 

44  Wouldn’t  have  ’em  at  a gift.” 

44  Better  than  East,  though  ; for  they  ain’t  quite  so  sharp,” 
said  Green,  getting  up  and  leaning  his  back  against  the 
mantelpiece — he  wasn’t  a bad  fellow,  and  couldn’t  help 
not  being  able  to  put  down  the  unruly  fifth-form.  His  eye 
twinkled  as  he  went  on,  44  Did  I ever  tell  you  how  the 
young  vagabond  sold  me  last  half?  ” 

44  No;  how?” 

44  Well,  he  never  half  cleaned  my  study  out,  only  just 
stuck  the  candlesticks  in  the  cupboard,  and  swept  the 
crumbs  on  to  the  floor.  So  at  last  I was  mortal  angry,  and 
had  him  up,  made  him  go  through  the  whole  performance 
under  my  eyes : the  dust  the  young  scamp  made  nearly 
choked  me,  and  showed  that  lie  hadn’t  swept  the  carpet 
before.  Well,  when  it  was  all  finished,  4 Now,  young 
gentleman,’  says  I,  4 mind  I expect  this  to  be  done  every 
morning,  floor  swept,  table-cloth  taken  off  and  shaken, 
and  everything  dusted.’  4 Very  well,’  grunts  he.  Not  a 
bit  of  it  though — I was  quite  sure  in  a day  or  two  that  he 
never  took  the  table-cloth  off  even.  So  I laid  a trap  for 
him : I tore  up  some  paper  and  put  a half  a dozen  bits  on 
my  table  one  night,  and  the  cloth  over  them  as  usual.  Next 
morning,  after  breakfast,  up  I came,  pulled  off  the  cloth 
and  sure  enough  there  was  the  paper,  which  fluttered  down 
on  to  the  floor.  I was  in  a towering  rage.  4 I’ve  got  you 
now,’  thought  I,  and  sent  for  him,  while  I got  out  my  cane. 
Up  he  came  as  cool  as  you  please,  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets.  4 Didn’t  I tell  you  to  shake  my  table-cloth  every 


150 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


morning  ? ’ roared  I.  4 Yes/  says  he.  4 Did  you  do  it  this 
morning?’  4 Yes.’  4 You  young  liar!  I put  these  pieces 
of  paper  on  the  table  last  night,  and  if  you’d  taken  the 
table-cloth  off  you’d  have  seen  them,  so  I’m  going  to  give 
you  a good  licking.’  Then  my  youngster  takes  one  hand 
out  of  his  pocket,  and  just  stoops  down  and  picks  up  two 
of  the  bits  of  paper,  and  holds  them  out  to  me.  There  was 
written  on  each,  in  great  round  text.  4 Harry  East,  his 
mark.’  The  young  rogue  had  found  my  trap  out,  taken 
away  my  paper,  and  put  some  of  his  there,  every  bit  ear- 
marked. I’d  a great  mind  to  lick  him  for  his  impudence, 
but  after  all  one  has  no  right  to  be  laying  traps,  so  I didn’t. 
Of  course  I was  at  his  mercy  till  the  end  of  the  half,  and 
in  his  weeks  my  study  was  so  frowsy,  I couldn’t  sit  in  it.” 
44  They  spoil  one’s  things  so,  too,”  chimed  in  a third  boy. 
44 Hall  and  Brown  were  night-fags  last  week:  I called  fag, 
and  gave  them  my  candlesticks  to  clean ; away  they  went, 
and  didn’t  appear  again.  When  they’d  had  time  enough 
to  clean  them  three  times  over,  I went  out  to  look  after 
them.  They  weren’t  in  the  passages,  so  down  I went  into 
the  hall,  where  I heard  music,  and  there  I found  them  sit- 
ting on  the  table,  listening  to  Johnson,  who  was  playing 
the  flute,  and  my  candlesticks  stuck  between  the  bars  well 
into  the  fire,  red-liot,  clean  spoiled ; they’ve  never  stood 
straight  since,  and  I must  get  some  more.  However,  I 
gave  them  both  a good  licking,  that’s  one  comfort.” 

Such  were  the  sort  of  scrapes  they  were  always  getting 
into;  and  so,  partly  by  their  own  faults,  partly  from  cir- 
cumstances, partly  from  the  faults  of  others,  they  found 
themselves  outlaws,  ticket-of-leave  men,  or  what  you  will 
in  that  line : in  short,  dangerous  parties,  and  lived  the  sort 
of  hand-to-mouth,  wild,  reckless  life  which  such  parties 
generally  have  to  put  up  with.  Nevertheless,  they  never 
quite  lost  favor  with  young  Brooke,  who  was  now  the  cock 
of  the  house,  and  just  getting  into  the  sixth,  and  Diggs 
stuck  to  them  like  a man,  and  gave  them  store  of  good 
advice,  by  which  they  never  in  the  least  profited. 

And  even  after  the  house  mended,  and  law  and  order 
had,  been  restored,  which  soon  happened  after  young 
Brooke  and  Diggs  got  into  the  sixth,  they  couldn’t  easily 
or  at  once  return  into  the  paths  of  steadiness,  and  many  of 
the  old  wild  rout-of-bounds  habits  stuck  to  them  as  firmly 


A CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS 


ioi 


as  ever.  While  they  had  been  quite  little  boys,  the  scrapes 
they  got  into  in  the  school  hadn’t  much  mattered  to  any 
one  ; but  now  they  were  in  the  upper  school,  all  wrong- 
doers from  which  were  sent  up  straight  to  the  Doctor  at 
once : so  they  began  to  come  under  his  notice ; and  as  they 
were  a sort  of  leaders  in  a small  way  among  their  own  con- 
temporaries, his  eye,  which  was  everywhere,  was  upon 
them. 

It  was  a toss-up  whether  they  turned  out  well  or  ill,  and 
so  they  were  just  the  boys  who  caused  most  anxiety  to  such 
a master.  You  have  been  told  of  the  first  occasion  on 
which  they  were  sent  up  to  the  Doctor,  and  the  remem- 
brance of  it  was  so  pleasant  that  they  had  much  less  fear 
of  him  than  most  boys  of  their  standing  had.  “ It’s  all  his 
look,”  Tom  used  to  say  to  East,  “ that  frightens  fellows ; 
don’t  you  remember,  he  never  said  anything  to  us  my  first 
half-year,  for  being  an  hour  late  for  locking  up?” 

The  next  time  that  Tom  came  before  him,  however,  the 
interview  was  of  a very  different  kind.  It  happened  just 
about  the  time  at  which  we  have  now  arrived,  and  was  the 
first  of  a series  of  scrapes  into  which  our  hero  managed 
now  to  tumble. 

The  river  Avon  at  Rugby  is  a slow  and  not  very  clear 
stream,  in  which  chub,  dace,  roach,  and  other  coarse  fish 
are  (or  were)  plentiful  enough,  together  with  a fair  sprink- 
ling of  small  jack,  but  no  fish  worth  sixpence  either  for 
sport  or  food.  It  is,  however,  a capital  river  for  bathing, 
as  it  has  many  nice  small  pools  and  several  good  reaches 
for  swimming,  all  within  about  a mile  of  one  another,  and 
at  an  easy  twenty  minutes’  walk  from  the  school.  This 
mile  of  water  is  rented,  or  used  to  be  rented,  for  bathing 
purposes,  by  the  trustees  of  the  school,  for  the  boys.  The 
footpath  to  Browns  over  crosses  the  river  by  “ the  Planks,” 
a curious  old  single-plank  bridge,  running  for  fifty  or  sixty 
yards  into  the  flat  meadows  on  each  side  of  the  river, — for 
in  the  winter  there  are  frequent  floods.  Above  the 
Planks  were  the  bathing  places  for  the  smaller  boys  ; 
Sleath’s,  the  first  bathing  place  where  all  new  boys  had  to 
begin,  until  they  had  proved  to  the  bathing  men  (three 
steady  individuals  who  were  paid  to  attend  daily  through 
the  summer  to  prevent  accidents)  that  they  could  swim 
pretty  decently,  when  they  were  allowed  to  go  on  to 


152  TOM  BBO  WN  S SCHOOL-DA  TS . 

Anstey’s,  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  below.  Here 
there  was  a hole  about  six  feet  deep  and  twelve  feet  across, 
over  which  the  puffing  urchins  struggled  to  the  opposite 
side,  and  thought  no  small  beer  of  themselves  for  having 
been  out  of  their  depths.  Below  the  Planks  came  larger 
and  deeper  holes,  the  first  of  which  was  YVratislaw’s,  and 
the  last  Swift’s,  a famous  hole,  ten  or  twelve  feet  deep  in 
parts,  and  thirty  yards  across,  from  which  there  was  a fine 
swimming  reach  right  down  to  the  mill.  Swift’s  was 
reserved  for  the  sixth  and  fifth  forms,  and  had  a spring 
board  and  two  sets  of  steps : the  others  had  one  set  of  steps 
each,  and  were  used  indifferently  by  all  the  lower  boys, 
though  each  house  addicted  itself  more  to  one  hole  than  to 
another.  The  school-house  at  this  time  affected  Wratislaw’s 
hole,  and  Tom  and  East,  who  had  learned  to  swim  like 
fishes,  were  to  be  found  there  as  regular  as  the  clock 
through  the  summer,  always  twice,  and  often  three  times  a 
day. 

Now  the  boys  either  had,  or  fancied  they  had,  a right 
also  to  fish  at  their  pleasure  over  the  whole  of  this  part  of 
the  river,  and  would  not  understand  that  the  right  (if  any) 
only  extended  to  the  Rugby  side.  As  ill  luck  would  have 
it,  the  gentleman  who  owned  the  opposite  bank,  after 
allowing  it  for  some  time  without  interference,  had  ordered 
ids  keepers  not  to  let  the  boys  fish  on  his  side,  the  conse- 
quence of  which  had  been,  that  there  had  been  first  wrang 
lings  and  then  fights  between  the  keepers  and  boj  s;  and 
so  keen  had  the  quarrel  become,  that  the  landlord  and  his 
keepers,  after  a ducking  had  been  inflicted  on  one  of  the 
latter,  and  a fierce  fight  ensued  thereon,  had  been  up  to  the 
great  school  at  calling-over  to  identify  the  delinquents, 
and  it  was  all  the  Doctor  himself  and  five  or  six  masters 
could  do  to  keep  the  peace.  Not  even  his  authority  could 
prevent  the  hissing;  and  so  strong  was  the  feeling,  that 
the  four  praepostors  of  the  week  walked  up  the  school  with 
their  canes,  shouting  S-s-s-s-i-lenc-c-c-c-e  at  the  top  of  their 
voices.  However,  the  chief  offenders  for  the  time  were 
flogged  and  kept  in  bounds,  but  the  victorious  party  had 
brought  a nice  hornets’  nest  about  their  ears.  The  land- 
lord was  hissed  at  the  school  gates  as  he  rode  past,  and 
when  he  charged  his  horse  at  the  mob  of  boys,  and  tried  to 
thrash  them  with  his  whip,  was  driven  back  with  cricket- 


A CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENT. 


163 


bats  and  wickets,  and  pursued  with  pebbles  and  fives’ 
balls ; while  the  wretched  keepers’  lives  were  a burden  to 
them,  from  having  to  watch  the  waters  so  closely. 

The  school-house  boys  of  Tom’s  standing,  one  and  all, 
as  a protest  against  this  tyranny  and  cutting  short  of  their 
lawful  amusements,  took  to  fishing  in  all  ways  and  espe- 
cially by  means  of  night-lines.  The  little  tackle-maker  at 
the  bottom  of  the  town  would  soon  have  made  his  fortune 
had  the  rage  lasted,  and  several  of  the  barbers  began  to  lay 
in  fishing-tackle.  The  boys  had  this  great  advantage  over 
their  enemies,  that  they  spent  a large  portion  of  the  day 
in  nature’s  garb  by  the  river  side,  and  so,  when  tired  of 
swimming,  would  get  out  on  the  other  side  and  fish,  or  set 
night-lines  till  the  keeper  hove  in  sight,  and  then  plunge 
in  and  swim  back  and  mix  with  the  other  bathers,  and  the 
keepers  were  too  wise  to  follow  across  the  stream. 

While  things  were  in  this  state,  one  day  Tom  and  three 
or  four  others  were  bathing  at  Wratislaw’s,  and  had,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  been  taking  up  and  resetting  night-lines. 
They  had  all  left  the  water,  and  were  sitting  or  standing 
about  at  their  toilets,  in  all  costumes  from  a shirt  upward, 
when  they  were  aware  of  a man  in  a velveteen  shooting- 
coat  approaching  from  the  other  side.  He  was  a new 
keeper,  so  they  didn’t  recognize  or  notice  him,  till  he  pulled 
up  right  opposite,  and  began  : — 

44  I see’d  some  of  you  young  gentlemen  over  this  side  a 
fishing  just  now.” 

44  Hallo,  who  are  you?  what  business  is  that  of  yours, 
old  Velveteens  ? ” 

“ I'm  the  new  under-keeper,  and  master’s  told  me  to 
keep  a sharp  look-out  on  all  o’  you  young  chaps.  And  I 
tells  ’ee  I means  business,  and  you’d  better  keep  on  your 
own  side,  or  we  shall  fall  out.” 

“Well,  that’s  right.  Velveteens — speak  out,  and  let’s 
know  your  mind  at  once.” 

“ Look  here,  old  boy,”  cried  East,  holding  up  a miserable 
coarse  fish  or  two  and  a small  jack,  44  would  you  like  to 
smell  ’em  and  see  which  bank  they  lived  under  ? ” 

44  I’ll  give  you  a bit  of  advice,  keeper,”  shouted  Tom,  who 
was  sitting  in  his  shirt  paddling  with  his  feet  in  the  river  ; 
44  you’d  better  go  down  there  to  Swift’s,  where  the  big 
boys  are,  they’re  beggars  at  setting  lines,  and  ’ll  put  you 


154 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-BAYS . 


up  to  a wrinkle  or  two  for  catching  the  five-pounders.” 
Tom  was  nearest  to  the  keeper,  and  that  officer,  who  was 
getting  angry  at  the  chaff,  fixed  his  eyes  on  our  hero,  as  if 
to  take  a note  of  him  for  future  use.  Tom  returned  his 
gaze  with  a- steady  stare,  and  then  broke  into  a laugh,  and 
struck  into  the  middle  of  a favorite  school-house  song — 

As  I and  my  companions 
Were  setting  of  a snare, 

The  gamekeeper  was  watching  us, 

For  him  we  did  not  care: 

For  we  can  wrestle  and  fight,  my  boys, 

And  jump  out  anywhere, 

For  it’s  my  delight  of  a likely  night, 

In  the  season  of  the  year. 

The  chorus  was  taken  up  by  the  other  boys  with  shouts 
of  laughter,  and  the  keeper  turned  away  with  a grunt,  but 
evidently  bent  on  mischief.  The  boys  thought  no  more  of 
the  matter. 

But  now  came  on  the  may-fly  season  ; the  soft  hazy  sum- 
mer weather  lay  sleepily  along  the  rich  meadows  by  Avon 
side,  and  the  green  and  gray  flies  flickered  with  their 
graceful  lazy  up  and  down  flight  over  the  reeds  and  the 
water  and  the  meadows,  in  myriads  upon  myriads.  The 
maj^-flies  must  surely  be  the  lotus-eaters  of  the  ephemerae  ; 
the  happiest,  laziest,  carelessest  fly  that  dances  and  dreams 
out  his  few  hours  of  sunshiny  life  by  English  rivers. 

Every  little  pitiful  coarse  fish  in  the  Avon  was  on  the 
alert  for  the  flies,  and  gorging  his  wretched  carcass  with 
hundreds  daily,  the  gluttonous  rogues  ! and  every  lover  of 
the  gentle  craft  was  out  to  avenge  the  poor  may-flies. 

So  one  fine  Thursday  afternoon,  Tom  having  borrowed 
East’s  new  rod,  started  by  himself  to  the  river.  He  fished 
for  some  time  with  small  success,  not  a fish  would  rise  at 
him ; but  as  he  prowled  along  the  bank,  he  was  presently 
aware  of  mighty  ones  feeding  in  a pool  on  the  opposite 
side,  under  the  shade  of  a huge  willow-tree.  The  stream 
was  deep  here,  but  some  fifty  yards  below  was  a shallow, 
for  which  he  made  off  hot  foot ; and  forgetting  landlords, 
keepers,  solemn  prohibitions  of  the  Doctor,  and  everything 
else,  pulled  up  his  trousers,  plunged  across,  and  in  three 
minutes  was  creeping  along  on  all  fours  toward  the  clump 
of  willows. 

It  isn’t  often  that  great  chub,  or  any  other  coarse  fish 


A CHAPTER,  OF  ACCIDENTS. 


155 


are  in  earnest  about  anything,  but  just  then  they  were 
thoroughly  bent  on  feeding,  and  in  half  an  hour  Master 
Tom  had  deposited  three  thumping  fellows  at  the  foot  of 
the  giant  willow.  As  he  was  baiting  for  a fourth  pounder, 
and  just  going  to  throw  in  again,  he  became  aware  of  a 
man  coming  up  the  bank  not  one  hundred  yards  off. 
Another  look  told  him  that  it  was  the  under-keeper. 
Could  he  reach  the  shallow  before  him?  No,  not  carrying 
his  rod.  Nothing  for  it  but  the  tree  : so  Tom  laid  his 
bones  to  it,  shinning  up  as  fast  as  he  could,  and  dragging 
up  his  rod  after  him.  He  had  just  time  to  reach  and  crouch 
along  upon  a huge  branch  some  ten  feet  up,  which  stretch- 
ed out  over  the  river,  when  the  keeper  arrived  at  the  clump. 
Tom’s  heart  beat  fast  as  lie  came  under  the  tree  ; two  steps 
more  and  he  would  have  passed,  when,  as  ill-luck  would 
have  it,  the  gleam  on  the  scales  of  the  dead  fish  caught  his 
eye,  and  he  made  a dead  point  at  the  foot  of  the  tree.  He 
picked  up  the  fish  one  by  one ; his  eye  and  touch  told  him 
that  they  had  been  alive  and  feeding  within  the  hour. 
Tom  crouched  lower  along  the  branch,  and  heard  the  keeper 
beating  the  clump.  “ If  I could  only  get  the  rod  hidden,” 
thought  he,  and  began  gently  shifting  it  to  get  it  alongside 
him  ; “ willow-trees  don’t  throw  out  straight  hickory  shoots 
twelve  feet  long,  with  no  leaves,  worse  luck.”  Alas!  the 
keeper  catches  the  rustle,  and  then  a sight  of  the  rod,  and 
then  of  Tom’s  hand  and  arm. 

“ Oh,  be  up  ther’  be  ’ee?”  says  he,  running  under  the 
tree.  “Now  you  come  down  this  minute.” 

44  Tree’d  at  last,”  thinks  Tom,  making  no  answer,  and 
keeping  as  close  as  possible,  but  working  away  at  the  rod, 
which  he  takes  to  pieces  ; 44  I’m  in  for  it,  unless  I can 
starve  him  out.”  And  then  he  begins  to  meditate  getting 
along  the  branch  for  a plunge  and  scramble  to  the  other 
side ; but  the  small  branches  are  so  thick,  and  the  oppo- 
site bank  so  difficult,  that  the  keeper  will  have  lots  of  time 
to  get  round  by  the  ford  before  he  can  get  out,  so  he  gives 
that  up.  And  now  he  hears  the  keeper  beginning  to 
scramble  up  the  trunk.  That  will  never  do  ; so  he  scram- 
bles himself  back  to  where  his  branch  joins  the  trunk,  and 
stands  with  lifted  rod. 

44  Hullo,  Velveteens,  mind  your  fingers  if  you  come  any 
higher.” 


156 


TOM  BBO WN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


The  keeper  stops  and  looks  up,  and  then  with  a grin 
says,  “Oh!  be  you,  be  it,  young  master?  Well,  here’s 
luck.  Now  I tells  ’ee  to  come  down  at  once,  and  ’t’ll  be 
best  for  ’ee.” 

“Thank’ee,  Velveteens,  I’m  very  comfortable,”  said 
Tom,  shortening  the  rod  in  his  hand,  and  preparing  for 
battle. 

44  Werry  well,  please  yourself,”  says  the  keeper,  descend- 
ing, however,  to  the  ground  again,  and  taking  his  seat  on 
the  bank  ; “ I bean’t  in  no  hurry,  so  you  med  take  your 
time.  I’ll  larn  ’ee  to  gee  honest  folk  names  afore  I’ve  done 
with  ’ee.” 

“ My  luck  as  usual,”  thinks  Tom  ; “ what  a fool  I was 
to  give  him  a black.  If  I’d  called  him  4 keeper  ’ now  I 
might  get  off.  The  return  match  is  all  his  way.” 

The  keeper  quietly  proceeded  to  take  out  his  pipe,  fill, 
and  light  it,  keeping  an  eye  on  Tom,  who  now  sat  discon- 
solately across  the  branch,  looking  at  keeper — a pitiful 
sight  for  men  and  fishes.  The  more  he  thought  of  it  the 
less  he  liked  it.  44  It  must  be  getting  near  second  calling- 
over,”  thinks  he.  Keeper  smokes  on  stolidly.  44  If  he 
takes  me  up,  I shall  be  flogged  safe  enough.  I can’t  sit 
here  all  night.  Wonder  if  he’ll  rise  at  silver.” 

“ I say,  keeper,”  said  he  meekly,  44  let  me  go  for  two 
bob?”  * 

u Not  for  twenty,  neither,”  grunts  his  persecutor. 

And  so  they  sat  on  till  long  past  second  calling-over,  and 
the  sun  came  slanting  in  through  the  willow-branches,  and 
telling  of  locking-up  near  at  hand. 

44  Im  coming  down,  keeper,”  said  Tom  at  last  with  a sigh, 
fairly  tired  out.  44  Now,  what  are  you  going  to  do?  ” 

44  Walk’ee  up  to  school,  and  give  ’ee  over  to  the  Doctor  ; 
them’s  my  orders,”  says  Velveteens,  knocking  the  ashes 
out  of  his  fourth  pipe,  and  standing  up  and  shaking  him- 
self. 

“Very  good,”  said  Tom;  “but  hands  off,  you  know. 
I’ll  go  with  you  quietly,  so  no  collaring  or  that  sort  of 
thing.” 

Keeper  looked  at  him  a minute — “Werry  good,”  said  he 
at  last ; and  so  Tom  descended,  and  wended  his  way  drear- 
ily by  the  side  of  the  keeper  up  to  the  school-house,  where 
they  arrived  just  at  locking-up.  As  they  passed  the 


A CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS . 


157 


school  gates,  the  Tadpole  and  several  others  who  were 
standing  there,  caught  the  state  of  things,  and  rushed  out 
crying  44  Rescue  ! ” but  Tom  shook  his  head,  so  they  only 
followed  to  the  Doctor’s  gate,  and  went  back  sorely  puz- 
zled. 

How  changed  and  stern  the  Doctor  seemed  from  the 
last  time  that  Tom  was  up  there,  as  the  keeper  told  the 
story,  not  omitting  to  state  how  Tom  had  called  him  black- 
guard names.  44  Indeed,  sir,”  broke  in  the  culprit,  44  it  was 
only  Velveteens.”  The  Doctor  only  asked  one  question. 

44  You  know  the  rule  about  the  banks,  Brown  ? ” 

44  Yes,  sir.” 

44  Then  wait  for  me  to-morrow,  after  first  lesson.” 

“I  thought  so,”  muttered  Tom. 

44  And  about  the  rod,  sir  ? ” went  on  the  keeper ; “Master’s 
told  we  as  we  might  have  all  the  rods — ” 

44  Oh,  please,  sir,”  broke  in  Tom,  44  the  rod  isn’t  mine.” 
The  Doctor  looked  puzzled,  but  the  keeper,  who  was  a 
good-hearted  fellow,  and  melted  at  Tom’s  evident  distress, 
gave  up  his  claim.  Tom  was  flogged  next  morning,  and  a 
few  days  afterward  met  Velveteens,  and  presented  him 
with  half  a crown  for  giving  up  the  rod  claim,  and  they 
became  sworn  friends  ; and  I regret  to  say  that  Tom  had 
many  more  fish  from  under  the  willow  that  may-fly  season, 
and  was  never  caught  again  by  Velveteens. 

It  wasn’t  three  weeks  before  Tom,  and  now  East  by  his 
side,  were  again  in  the  awful  presence.  This  time,  how- 
ever, the  Doctor  was  not  so  terrible.  A few  days  before 
they  had  been  fagged  at  fives  to  fetch  the  balls  that  went 
off  the  court.  While  standing  watching  the  game,  they 
saw  five  or  six  nearly  new  balls  Hit  on  the  top  of  the  school. 
“ 1 say,  Tom,”  said  East,  when  they  were  dismissed, 
“ couldn’t  we  get  those  balls  somehow?  ’ 

44  Let’s  try,  anyhow.” 

So  they  reconnoitered  the  walls  carefully,  borrowed  a 
coal  hammer  from  old  Stumps,  bought  some  big  nails,  and 
after  one  or  two  attempts  scaled  the  schools,  and  possessed 
themselves  of  huge  quantities  of  fives’-balls.  The  place 
pleased  them  so  much  that  they  spent  all  their  spare  time 
there,  scratching  and  cutting  their  names  on  the  top  of 
every  tower ; and  at  last,  having  exhausted  all  other 
places,  finished  up  with  inscribing  H.  East,  T.  Brown, 


158 


TOM  B n0WN 9S  SCHOOL-DA  TS. 


on  the  minute-nan d of  the  great  clock,  in  the  doing  of 
which  they  held  the  minute-hand,  and  disturbed  the  clock’s 
economy.  So  next  morning,  when  masters  and  boys  came 
trooping  down  to  praj^ers,  and  entered  the  quadrangle,  the 
injured  minute-hand  was  indicating  three  minutes  to  the 
hour.  They  all  pulled  up,  and  took  their  time.  When 
the  hour  struck,  doors  were  closed,  and  half  the  school 
late.  Thomas,  being  sent  to  make  inquiry,  discovers  their 
names  on  the  minute-hand,  and  reports  accordingly ; and 
they  are  sent  for,  a knot  of  their  friends  making  derisive 
and  pantomimic  allusions  to  what  their  fate  will  be,  as 
they  walk  off. 

But  the  Doctor,  after  hearing  their  story,  doesn’t  make 
much  of  it,  and  only  gives  them  thirty  lines  of  Homer  to 
learn  by  heart,  and  a lecture  on  the  likelihood  of  such  ex- 
ploits ending  in  broken  bones. 

Alas ! almost  the  next  day  was  one  of  the  great  fairs  in 
the  town  ; and  as  several  rows  and  other  disagreeable  acci- 
dents had  of  late  taken  place  on  these  occasions,  the  Doctor 
gives  out,  after  prayers  in  the  morning,  that  no  boy  is  to 
go  down  into  the  town.  Wherefore  East  and  Tom,  for  no 
earthly  pleasure  except  that  of  doing  what  they  are  told 
not  to  do,  start  away,  after  second  lesson,  and  making  a 
short  circuit  through  the  fields,  strike  a back  lane  which 
leads  into  the  town,  go  down  it,  and  run  plump  upon  one 
of  the  masters  as  they  emerge  into  the  High  street.  The 
master  in  question,  though  a very  clever,  is  not  a righteous 
man  : he  has  already  caught  several  of  his  own  pupils,  and 
gives  them  lines  to  learn,  while  he  sends  East  and  Tom, 
who  are  not  his  pupils,  up  to  the  Doctor,  who,  on  learning 
that  they  had  been  at  prayers  in  the  morning,  flogs  them 
soundly. 

The  flogging  did  them  no  good  at  the  time,  for  the  in- 
justice of  their  captor  was  rankling  in  their  minds  ; but  it 
was  just  at  the  end  of  the  half,  and  on  the  next  evening 
but  one  Thomas  knocks  at  their  door,  and  says  the  Doctor 
wants  to  see  them.  They  look  at  one  another  in  silent 
dismay.  What  can  it  be  now?  Which  of  their  countless 
wrong-doings  can  he  have  heard  of  officially  ? However, 
it  is  no  use  delaying,  so  up  they  go  to  the  study.  There 
they  find  the  Doctor,  not  angry,  but  very  grave.  “He  has? 
sent  for  them  to  speak  very  seriously  before  they  go  home 


A CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS. 


159 


They  have  each  been  flogged  several  times  in  the  half-year 
for  direct  and  wilful  breaches  of  rules.  This  cannot 
go  on.  They  are  doing  no  good  to  themselves  or  others, 
and  now  they  are  getting  up  in  the  school,  and  have  in- 
fluence. They  seem  to  think  that  rules  are  made  capri- 
ciously, and  for  the  pleasure  of  the  masters  ; but  this  is  not 
so,  they  are  made  for  the  good  of  the  whole  school,  and 
must  and  shall  be  obeyed.  Those  who  thoughtlessly  or 
wilfully  break  them  will  not  be  allowed  to  stay  at  the  school. 
He  should  be  sorry  if  they  had  to  leave,  as  the  school  might 
do  them  both  much  good,  and  wishes  them  to  think  very 
seriously  in  the  holidays  over  what  he  has  said.  Good 
night.’' 

And  so  the  two  hurry  off  horribly  scared ; the  idea  of 
having  to  leave  has  never  crossed  their  mind,  and  is  quite 
unbearable. 

As  they  go  out,  they  meet  at  the  door  old  Holmes,  a 
sturdy  cheery  praepostor  of  another  house,  who  goes  in  to 
the  Doctor;  and  they  hear  his  genial  hearty  greeting  of 
the  new-comer,  so  different  to  their  own  reception,  as  the 
door  closes,  and  return  to  their  study  with  heavy  hearts,  and 
tremendous  resolves  to  break  no  more  rules. 

Five  minutes  afterward  the  master  of  their  form,  a late 
arrival  and  a model  young  master,  knocks  at  the  Doctor’s 
study-door.  “ Come  in  ! ” and  as  he  enters  the  Doctor  goes 
on,  to  Holmes — “ You  see  I do  not  know  anything  of  the 
case  officially,  and  if  I take  any  notice  of  it  at  all  I must 
publicly  expel  the  boy.  I don’t  wish  to  do  that,  fori  think 
there  is  some  good  in  him.  There’s  nothing  for  it  but  a 
good  sound  thrashing.”  He  paused  to  shake  hands  with 
the  master,  which  Holmes  does  also,  and  then  prepares  to 
leave. 

44 1 understand.  Good  night,  sir.  ” 

44  Good  night,  Holmes.  And  remember,  ” added  the  Doc- 
tor, emphasizing  the  words,  44  a good  sound  thrashing  before 
the  Avhole  house.” 

The  door  closed  upon  Holmes ; and  the  Doctor,  in  an- 
swer to  the  puzzled  look  of  his  lieutenant,  explained  shortly. 
44  A gross  case  of  bullying.  Wharton,  the  head  of  the  house 
is  a very  goodfellow,  but  slight  and  weak,  and  severe  phys- 
ical pain  is  the  only  way  to  deal  with  such  a case  ; so  I have 
asked  Holmes  to  take  it  up.  He  is  very  careful  and  trust- 


160 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-BA  T75. 


worthy,  and  has  plenty  of  strength.  I wish  all  the  sixth 
had  as  much.  We  must  have  it  here,  if  we  are  to  keep  or- 
der at  all.” 

Now  I don’t  want  any  wiseacres  to  read  this  book,  but 
if  they  should,  of  course  they  will  prick  up  their  long  ears, 
and  howl,  or  rather  bray,  at  the  above  story.  Very  good, 
I don’t  object ; but  what  I have  to  add  for  you  boys  is  this : 
that  Holmes  called  a levy  of  his  house  after  breakfast  next 
morning,  made  them  a speech  on  the  case  of  bullying  in 
question,  and  then  gave  the  bully  a “ good  sound  thrashing ; ” 
and  that  years  afterward,  that  boy  sought  out  Holmes,  and 
thanked  him,  saying  it  had  been  the  kindest  act  which  had 
ever  been  done  upon  him,  and  the  turning-point  in  his  char- 
acter ; and  a very  good  fellow  he  became,  and  a credit  to 
his  school. 

After  some  other  talk  between  them,  the  Doctor  said, 
“ I want  to  speak  to  you  about  two  boys  in  your  form,  East 
and  Brown : I have  just  been  speaking  to  them.  What  do 
you  think  of  them  ? ” 

“ Well,  they  are  not  hard  workers,  and  very  thoughtless 
and  full  of  spirits — but  I can’t  help  liking  them.  I think 
they  are  sound,  good  fellows  as  the  bottom.” 

“ I’m  glad  of  it.  I think  so  too.  But  they  make  me 
very  uneasy.  They  are  taking  the  lead  a good  deal  among 
the  fags  in  my  house,  for  they  are  very  active,  bold  fellows. 
I should  be  sorry  to  lose  them,  but  I shan’t  let  them  stay 
if  I don’t  see  them  gaining  character  and  manliness.  In 
another  year  they  may  do  great  harm  to  all  the  younger 
boys.” 

“ Oh,  I hope  you  won’t  send  them  away,”  pleaded  their 
master. 

“Not  if  I can  help  it.  But  now  I never  feel  sure,  after 
any  half-holiday,  that  I shan’t  have  to  flog  one  of  them  next 
morning,  for  some  foolish,  thoughtless  scrape.  I quite 
dread  seeing  either  of  them.  ” 

They  were  both  silent  for  a minute.  Presently  the  Doc- 
tor began  again  : — 

“ They  don’t  feel  that  they  have  any  duty  or  work  to  do 
in  the  school,  and  how  is  one  to  make  them  feel  it?  ” 

“ I think  if  either  of  them  had  some  little  boy  to  take 
care  of,  it  would  steady  them.  Brown  is  the  most  reckless 
of  the  two,  I should  say ; East  wouldn’t  get  into  so  many 
scrapes  without  him.  ” 


HOW  THE  TIDE  TURNED. 


161 


“ Well,  ” said  the  Doctor,  with  something  like  a sigh, 
“ I’ll  think  of  it.  ” And  they  went  on  to  talk  of  other  sub- 
jects. 


PART  II. 

I (hold)  it  truth,  with  him  who  sings. 

To  one  clear  harp  in  divers  tones, 

That  men  may  rise  on  stepping-stones 
Of  their  dead  selves  to  higher  things. 

Tennyson. 


CHAPTER  I. 

HOW  THE  TIDE  TURNED. 

Once  to  every  man  and  nation,  comes  the  moment  to  decide 
In  the  strife  of  Truth  with  falsehood,  for  the  good  or  evil  side : 

* * * *******  * # 

Then  it  is  the  brave  man  chooses,  while  the  coward  stands  aside, 
Doubting  in  his  abject  spirit,  till  his  Lord  is  crucified. 

Lowell. 

The  turning  point  in  our  hero’s  school  career  had  now 
come,  and  the  manner  of  it  was  as  follows.  On  the  even- 
ing of  the  first  day  of  the  next  half-year,  Tom,  East  and 
another  school-house  boy,  who  had  just  been  dropped  at 
the  Spread  Eagle  by  the  old  Regulator,  rushed  into  the 
matron’s  room  in  high  spirits,  such  as  all  real  boys  are  in  when 
they  first  get  back,  however  fond  they  may  be  of  home. 

“ Well,  Mrs.  Wixie,”  shouted  one,  seizing  on  the  meth- 
odical, active,  little  dark-eyed  woman,  who  was  busy  stow- 
ing away  the  linen  of  the  boys  who  had  already  arrived  in- 
to their  several  pigeon-holes,  “ here  we  are  again,  you  see, 
as  jolly  as  ever.  Let  us  help  you  put  the  things  away.” 
u And,  Mary,”  cried  another  (she  was  called  indifferent- 
ly by  either  name),  46  who’s  come  back?  Has  the  Doctor 
made  old  Jones  leave  ? How  many  new  boys  are  there  ? ” 
u Am  I and  East  to  have  Gray’s  study  ? You  know  you 
promised  to  get  it  for  us  if  you  could,”  shouted  Tom. 

“ And  am  I to  sleep  in  number  4 ? ” roared  East. 

44 How’s  old  Sam,  and  Bogle,  and  Sally?  ” 

44  Bless  the  boys ! ” cries  Mary,  at  last  getting  in  a word, 
44  why,  you’ll  shake  me  to  death.  There  now,  do  go  away 
up  to  the  housekeeper’s  room  and  get  your  suppers ; you 
know  I haven’t  time  to  talk — you’ll  find  plenty  more  in 


162 


TOM  BROWN’S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


the  house.  Now,  Master  East,  do  let  those  things  alone — 
you’re  mixing  up  three  new  boys’  things.”  And  she  rush- 
ed at  East,  who  escaped  round  the  open  trunks  holding  up 
a prize. 

“ Hullo,  look  here,  Tommy,”  shouted  he,  “here’s  fun  !” 
and  he  brandished  above  his  head  some  pretty  little  night- 
caps, beautifully  made  and  marked,  the  work  of  loving 
fingers  in  some  distant  country  home.  The  kind  mother 
and  sisters,  who  sewed  that  delicate  stitching  with  aching 
hearts,  little  thought  of  the  trouble  they  might  be  bringing 
on  the  young  head,  for  which  they  were  meant.  The  little 
matron  was  wiser,  and  snatched  the  caps  from  East  before 
he  could  look  at  the  name  on  them. 

“ Now,  Master  East,  I shall  be  very  angry  if  you  don’t 
go,”  said  she  ; “ there’s  some  capital  cold  beef  and  pickles 
up  stairs,  and  I won’t  have  you  old  boys  in  my  room  first 
night.” 

“ Hurrah  for  the  pickles ! Come  along,  Tommy ; come 
along,  Smith.  We  shall  find  out  who  the  young  Count  is, 
I’ll  be  bound  : I hope  he’ll  sleep  in  my  room.  Mary’s  all- 
ways vicious  first  week.” 

As  the  boys  turned  to  leave  the  room,  the  matron  touched 
Tom’s  arm,  and  said,  “ Master  Brown,  please  stop  a minute, 
I want  to  speak  to  you.” 

“Very  well,  Mary.  I’ll  come  in  a minute  : East,  don’t 
finish  the  pickles — ” 

“ Oh,  Master  Brown,”  went  on  the  little  matron,  when 
the  rest  had  gone,  “you’re  to  have  Gray’s  study,  Mrs. 
Arnold  says.  And  she  wants  you  to  take  in  this  young 
gentleman.  He’s  a new  boy,  and  thirteen  years  old,  though 
he  don’t  look  it.  He’s  very  delicate,  and  has  never  been 
from  home  before.  And  I told  Mrs.  Arnold  I thought 
you’d  be  kind  to  him,  and  see  that  they  don’t  bully  him  at 
first.  He's  put  into  your  form,  and  I’ve  given  him  the  bed 
next  to  vours  in  number  4 ; so  East  can’t  sleep  there  this 
half.” 

Tom  was  rather  put  about  by  this  speech.  He  had  got 
the  double  study  which  he  coveted,  but  here  were  condi- 
tions attached  which  greatly  moderated  his  joy.  He  look- 
ed across  the  room,  and  in  the  far  corner  of  the  sofa  was 
aware  of  a slight  pale  boy,  with  large  blue  eyes  and  light 
fair  hair,  who  seemed  ready  to  shrink  through  the  floor. 


HOW  THE  TIDE  TURNED . 


163 


He  saw  at  a glance  that  the  little  stranger  was  just  the  boy 
whose  first  half-year  at  a public  school  would  be  misery  to 
himself  if  he  were  left  alone,  or  constant  anxiety  to  any 
one  who  meant  to  see  him  through  his  troubles.  Tom  was 
too  honest  to  take  in  the  youngster  and  then  let  him  shift 
for  himself ; and  if  he  took  him  as  his  chum  instead  of 
East,  where  were  all  his  pet  plans  of  having  a bottled-beer 
cellar  under  his  window,  and  making  night-lines  and  slings 
and  plotting  expeditions  to  Brownsover  Mills  and  Calde- 
cott’s Spinney  ? East  and  he  had  made  up  their  minds  to 
get  this  study,  and  then  every  night  from  locking-up  till 
ten  they  would  be  together  to  talk  about  fishing,  drink 
bottled-beer,  read  Marryat’s  novels,  and  sort  birds’  eggs. 
And  this  new  boy  would  most  likely  never  go  out  of  the 
close,  and  would  be  afraid  of  wet  feet,  and  always  getting 
laughed  at  and  called  Molly,  or  Jenny,  or  some  derogatory 
feminine  nickname. 

The  matron  watched  him  for  a moment,  and  saw  what 
was  passing  in  his  mind,  and  so,  like  a wise  negotiator, 
threw  in  an  appeal  to  his  warm  heart.  “Poor  little  fellow,” 
said  she  in  almost  a whisper,  “ his  father’s  dead,  and  he’s 
got  no  brothers.  And  his  mamma,  such  a kind  sweet  lady, 
almost  broke  her  heart  at  leaving liim  this  morning;  and 
she  said  one  of  his  sisters  was  like  to  die  of  decline,  and 


u Well,  well,”  burst  in  Tom,  with  something  like  a sigh, 
at  the  effort,  “ I suppose  I must  give  up  East.  Come  along, 
young  un.  What’s  your  name  ? We’ll  go  and  have  some 
supper,  and  then  I’ll  show  you  our  study.” 

“ His  name’s  George  Arthur,”  said  the  matron,  walking 
up  to  him  with  Tom,  who  grasped  his  little  delicate  hand 
as  the  proper  preliminary  to  making  a chum  of  him,  and 
felt  as  if  he  could  have  blown  him  away.  “ I’ve  had  his 
books  and  things  put  into  the  study,  which  his  mamma 
has  had  new  papered,  and  the  sofa  covered,  and  new 
green-baize  curtains  over  the  door”  (the  diplomatic  matron 
threw  this  in,  to  show  that  the  new  boy  was  contrib- 
uting largely  to  the  partnership  comforts).  “And  Mrs. 
Arnold  told  me  to  say,”  she  added,  “that  she  should  like 
you  both  to  come  up  to  tea  with  her.  You  know  the 
way,  Master  Brown,  and  the  things  are  just  gone  up,  I 
know/’ 


164 


TOM  BBOWM’S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


Here  was  an  announcement  for  Master  Tom ! He  was 
to  go  up  to  tea  the  first  night,  just  as  if  he  were  a sixth  or 
fifth-form  boy,  and  of  importance  in  the  school  world,  in- 
stead of  the  most  reckless  young  scapegrace  among  the 
fags.  He  felt  himself  lifted  on  to  a higher  social  and 
moral  platform  at  once.  Nevertheless,  he  couldn’t  give 
up  without  a sigh  the  idea  of  the  jolly  supper  in  the  house- 
keeper’s room  with  East  and  the  rest,  and  a rush  round  to 
all  the  studies  of  his  friends  afterwards,  to  pour  out  the 
deeds  and  wonders  of  the  holidays,  to  plot  fifty  plans  for 
the  coming  half-year,  and  to  gather  news  of  who  had  left, 
and  what  new  boj^s  had  come,  who  had  got  who’s  study, 
and  where  the  new  praepostors  slept.  However,  Tom  con- 
soled himself  with  thinking  that  he  couldn’t  have  done  all 
this  with  the  new  boy  at  his  heels,  and  so  marched  off 
along  the  passages  to  the  Doctor’s  private  house  with  his 
young  charge  in  tow,  in  monstrous  good  humor  with  him- 
self and  all  the  world. 

It  is  needless,  and  would  be  impertinent,  to  tell  how  the 
two  young  boys  were  received  in  that  drawing-room.  The 
lady  who  presided  there  is  still  living,  and  has  carried 
with  her  to  her  peaceful  home  in  the  North  the  respect 
and  love  of  all  those  who  ever  felt  and  shared  that  gentle 
and  high-bred  hospitality.  Ay,  many  is  the  brave  heart 
now  doing  its  work  and  bearing  its  load  in  country  curacies, 
London  chambers,  under  the  Indian  sun,  and  in  Australian 
towns  and  clearings,  which  looks  back  with  fond  and  grate- 
ful memory  to  that  school-house  drawing-room,  and  dates 
much  of  its  highest  and  best  training  to  the  lessons  learned 
there. 

Besides  Mrs.  Arnold  and  one  or  two  of  the  elder  chil- 
dren, there  was  one  of  the  younger  masters,  young  Brooke 
— who  was  now  in  the  sixth,  and  had  succeeded  to  his 
brother’s  position  and  influence— and  another  sixth-form 
boy  there,  talking  together  before  the  fire.  The  master 
and  young  Brooke,  now  a great  strapping  fellow  six  feet 
high,  eighteen  years  old,  and  powerful  as  a coal-heaver, 
nodded  kindly  to  Tom,  to  his  intense  glory,  and  then  went 
on  talking ; the  other  did  not  notice  them.  The  hostess, 
after  a few  kind  words,  which  led  t lie  boys  at  once  and  in- 
sensibly to  feel  at  their  ease,  and  to  begin  talking  to  one 
another,  left  them  with  her  own  children  while  she  fin- 


HOW  HIE  TILE  TULL  EL. 


165 


ished  a letter.  The  young  ones  got  on  fast  and  well,  Tom 
holding  forth  about  a prodigious  pony  he  had  been  riding 
out  hunting,  and  hearing  stories  of  the  winter  glories  of 
the  lakes,  when  tea  came  in,  and  immediately  after  the 
Doctor  himself. 

How  frank,  and  kind,  and  manly,  was  his  greeting  to 
the  party  by  the  fire ! It  did  Tom’s  heart  good  to  see  him 
and  young  Brooke  shake  hands,  and  look  one  another  in 
the  face ; and  he  didn’t  fail  to  remark,  that  Brooke  was 
nearly  as  tali,  and  quite  as  broad  as  the  Doctor.  And  his 
cup  was  full,  when  in  another  moment  his  master  turned 
to  him  with  another  warm  shake  of  the  hand,  and,  seem- 
ingly oblivious  of  all  the  late  scrapes  which  he  had  been 
getting  into,  said,  “ Ah,  Brown,  you  here  ! I hope  you 
left  your  father  and  all  well  at  home  ? ” 

“ Yes,  sir,  quite  well.” 

“ And  this  is  the  little  fellow  who  is  to  share  your  study. 
Well,  he  doesn’t  look  as  we  should  like  to  see  him.  He 
wants  some  Rugby  air,  and  cricket.  And  you  must  take 
him  some  good  long  walks,  to  Bilton  Grange  and  Calde- 
cott’s Spinney,  and  show  him  what  a little  pretty  country 
we  have  about  here.” 

Tom  wondered  if  the  Doctor  knew  that  his  visits  to 
Bilton  Grange  were  for  the  purpose  of  taking  rooks’  nests 
(a  proceeding  strongly  discountenanced  by  the  owner 
thereof),  and  those  to  Caldecott’s  Spinney  were  prompted 
chiefly  by  the  conveniences  for  setting  night-lines.  What 
didn’t  the  Doctor  know?  And  what  a noble  use  he  always 
made  of  it ! He  almost  resolved  to  abjure  rook-pies  and 
night-lines  forever.  The  tea  went  merrily  off,  the  Doctor 
now  talking  of  holiday  doings,  and  then  of  the  prospects 
of  the  half-year,  what  chance  there  was  for  the  Balliol 
scholarship,  whether  the  eleven  would  be  a good  one. 
Everybody  was  at  his  ease,  and  everybody  felt  that  he, 
young  as  he  might  be,  was  of  some  use  in  the  little  school 
world,  and  had  a work  to  do  there. 

Soon  after  tea  the  Doctor  went  off  to  his  study,  and  the 
young  boys  a few  minutes  afterward  took  their  leave,  and 
went  out  of  the  private  door  which  led  from  the  Doctor’s 
house  into  the  middle  passage. 

At  the  fire,  at  the  further  end  of  the  passage,  was  a 
crowd  of  boys  in  loud  talk  and  laughter.  There  was  a 


166 


TOM  BROWN9 8 SCHOOLDAYS. 


sudden  pause  when  the  door  opened,  and  then  a great 
shout  of  greeting,  as  Tom  was  recognized  marching  down 

the  passage. 

“ Hullo,  Brown,  where  do  you  come  from  ? ” 
u Oh,  I’ve  been  to  tea  with  the  Doctor,”  says  Tom,  with 
great  dignity. 

44  My  eye ! ” cried  East.  44  Oh,  so  that’s  why  Mary  called 
you  back,  and  you  didn’t  come  to  supper.  You  lost  some- 
thing— that  beef  and  pickles  was  no  end  good.” 

44 1 say,  young  fellow,”  cried  Hall,  detecting  Arthur, 
and  catching  him  by  the  collar,  44  what’s  your  name  ? 
Where  do  you  come  from  ? How  old  are  you  ? ” 

Tom  saw  Arthur  shrink  back,  and  look  scared  as  all  the 
group  turned  to  him,  but  thought  it  best  to  let  him  an- 
swer, just  standing  by  his  side  to  support  in  case  of  need. 

44  Arthur,  sir.  I come  from  Devonshire,” 

44  Don’t  call  me  4 sir,’  you  young  muff.  How  old  are 
you  ? ” 

44  Thirteen.” 

44 Can  you  sing?” 

The  poor  boy  was  trembling  and  hesitating.  Tom 
struck  in — 44  You  be  hanged,  Tadpole.  He’ll  have  to 
sing,  whether  he  can  or  not.  Saturday  twelve  weeks,  and 
that’s  long  enough  off  yet.” 

44  Do  3^ou  know  him  at  home,  Brown? 

44  No  ] but  he’s  ni3r  chum  in  Gray’s  old  study,  and  it’s 
near  praj^er  time,  and  I haven’t  had  a look  at  it  yet. 
Come  along,  Arthur.” 

Away  went  the  two,  Tom  longing  to  get  his  charge  safe 
under  cover,  where  he  might  advise  him  on  his  deport- 
ment. 

44  What  a queer  chum  for  Tom  Brown,”  was  the  com- 
ment at  the  fire : and  it  must  be  confessed  so  thought  Tom 
himself,  as  he  lighted  his  candle,  and  surveyed  the  new 
green-baize  curtains  and  the  carpet  and  sofa  with  much 
satisfaction. 

44 1 sajr,  Arthur,  what  a brick  your  mother  is  to  make  us 
so  cozy.  But  look  here,  now,  you  must  answer  straight 
up  when  the  fellows  speak  to  you,  and  don’t  be  afraid. 
If  you’re  afraid,  you’ll  get  bullied.  And  don’t  you  say 
you  can  sing;  and  doirt  you  ever  talk  about  home,  or 
3 *ur  mother  and  sisters.” 


HOW  THE  TIDE  TURNED. 


167 


Poor  little  Arthur  looked  ready  to  cry. 

“But  please,”  said  he,  “mayn’t  I talk  about — about 
home  to  you  ? ” 

“ Oh,  yes,  I like  it.  But  don’t  talk  to  boys  you  don’t 
know,  or  they’ll  call  you  home-sick,  or  mammy’s  darling, 
or  some  such  stuff.  What  a jolly  desk  ! Is  that  yours!  And 
what  stunning  binding  ! why,  your  school-books  look  like 
novels?  ” 

And  Tom  was  soon  deep  in  Arthur’s  goods  and  chattels, 
all  new  and  good  enough  for  a fifth-form  boy,  and 
hardly  thought  of  his  friends  outside,  till  the  prayer-bell 
rung. 

I have  already  described  the  school-house  prayers ; they 
were  the  same  on  the  first  night  as  on  the  other  nights, 
save  for  the  gaps  caused  by  the  absence  of  those  boys 
who  came  late,  and  the  line  of  new  boys  who  stood  all 
together  at  the  further  table — of  all  sorts  and  sizes,  like 
young  bears  with  all  their  troubles  to  come,  as  Tom’s 
father  had  said  to  him  when  he  was  in  the  same  position. 
He  thought  of  it  as  he  looked  at  the  line,  and  poor  little 
slight  Arthur  standing  with  them,  and  as  he  was  leading 
him  up-stairs  to  number  4,  directly  after  prayers,  and 
showing  him  his  bed.  It  was  a huge,  high,  airy  room, 
with  two  large  windows  looking  on  to  the  school  close. 
There  were  twelve  beds  in  the  room.  The  one  in  the 
furthest  corner  by  the  fire-place  occupied  by  the  sixth- 
form  boy,  wdio  was  responsible  for  the  discipline  of  the 
room,  and  the  rest  by  boys  in  the  lower-fifth  and  other 
junior  forms,  all  fags  (for  the  fifth-form  boys,  as  has  been 
said,  slept  in  rooms  by  themselves).  Being  fags,  the 
eldest  of  them  was  not  more  than  about  sixteen  years  old, 
and  were  all  bound  to  be  up  and  in  bed  by  ten  ; the  sixth- 
form  boys  came  to  bed  from  ten  to  a quarter  past  (at 
which  time  the  old  verger  came  round  to  put  the  candles 
out),  except  when  they  sat  up  to  read. 

Within  a few  minutes  therefore  of  their  entry,  all  the 
other  boys  who  slept  in  number  4 had  come  up.  The 
little  fellows  went  quietly  to  their  own  beds,  and  began 
undressing  and  talking  to  each  other  in  whispers ; while 
the  elder,  among  whom  was  Tom,  sat  chatting  about  on 
one  another’s  beds,  with  their  jackets  and  waistcoats  off. 
Poor  little  Arthur  was  overwhelmed  with  the  novelty  of 


168 


TOM  BLOWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS 


his  position.  The  idea  of  sleeping  in  the  room  with 
strange  boj^s  had  clearly  never  crossed  his  mind  before, 
and  was  as  painful  as  it  was  strange  to  him.  He  could 
hardly  bear  to  take  his  jacket  off;  however,  presently, 
with  an  effort,  off  it  came,  and  then  he  paused  and  looked 
at  Tom,  who  was  sitting  at  the  bottom  of  his  bed  talking 
a; id  laughing. 

“ Please,  Brown,”  he  whispered,  “ may  I wash  my  face 
and  hands.” 

“ Of  course,  if  you  like,”  said  Tom,  staring ; “ that’s 
your  wash-hand  stand,  under  the  window,  second  from 
your  bed.  You’ll  have  to  go  down  for  more  water  in  the 
morning  if  you  use  it  all.”  And  on  lie  went  with  his 
talk,  while  Arthur  stole  timidly  from  between  the  beds 
out  to  his  wash-hand  stand,  and  began  his  ablutions,  there- 
by drawing  for  a moment  on  himself  the  attention  of  the 
room. 

On  went  the  talk  and  laughter.  Arthur  finished  his 
washing  and  undressing,  and  put  on  his  night-gown.  He 
then  looked  around  more  nervously  than  ever.  Two  or 
three  of  the  little  boys  were  already  in  bed,  sitting  up 
with  their  chins  on  their  knees.  The  light  burned  clear, 
the  noise  went  on.  It  was  a trying  moment  for  the  poor 
little  lonely  boy;  however,  this  time  lie  didn’t  ask  Tom 
what  he  might  or  might  not  do,  but  dropped  on  his  knees 
by  the  bedside,  as  he  had  done  every  day  from  his  child- 
hood, to  open  his  heart  to  Him  who  heareth  the  cry  and 
beareth  the  sorrows,  of  the  tender  child,  and  the  strong 
man  in  agony. 

Tom  was  sitting  at  the  bottom  of  his  bed  unlacing  his 
boots,  so  that  his  back  was  toward  Arthur,  and  lie  didn’t 
see  what  had  happened,  and  looked  up  in  wonder  at  the 
sudden  silence.  Then  two  or  three  boys  laughed  and 
sneered,  and  a big  brutal  fellow,  who  was  standing  in  the 
middle  of  the  room,  picked  up  a slipper,  and  shied  it  at 
the  kneeling  boy,  calling  him  a sniveling  young  shaver. 
Then  Tom  saw  the  whole,  and  the  next  moment  the  boot 
he  had  just  pulled  off  flew  straight  at  the  head  of  the 
bully,  who  had  just  time  to  throw  up  his  arm  and  catch  it 
on  his  elbow. 

“ Confound  you,  Brown,  what’s  that  for?”  roared  he, 
stamping  with  pain. 


BOW  THE  TIDE  TURNED 


169 

“ Never  mind  what  I mean,”  said  Tom,  stepping  on  to  the 
floor,  every  drop  of  blood  in  his  body  tingling ; “ if  any 
fellow  wants  the  other  boot,  he  knows  how  to  get  it.” 

What  would  have  been  the  result  is  doubtful,  for  at  this 
moment. the  sixth-form  boy  came  in,  and  not  another  word 
could  be  said.  Tom  and  the  rest  rushed  into  bed  and  finish- 
ed their  unrobing  there,  and  the  old  verger,  as  punctual  as 
the  clock,  had  put  out  the  candle  in  another  minute,  and 
toddled  on  to  the  next  room,  shutting  their  door  with  his 
usual  “ Good  night,  genTm’n.” 

There  were  many  boys  in  the  room  by  whom  that  little 
scene  was  taken  to  heart  before  they  slept.  But  sleep 
seemed  to  have  deserted  the  pillow  of  poor  Tom.  For 
some  time  his  excitement,  and  the  flood  of  memories  which 
chased  one  another  through  his  brain,  kept  him  from  think- 
ing or  resolving.  His  head  throbbed,  his  heart  leaped,  and 
he  could  hardly  keep  himself  from  springing  out  of  bed 
and  rushing’  about  the  room.  Then  the  thought  of  his  own 
mother  came  across  him,  and  the  promise  he  had  made  at 
her  knee,  years  ago,  never  to  forget  to  kneel  by  his  bedside 
and  give  himself  up  to  his  Father,  before  he  laid  his  head 
on  the  pillow,  from  which  it  might  never  rise  ; and  he  lay 
down  gently  and  cried  as  if  his  heart  would  break.  He 
was  only  fourteen  years  old. 

It  was  no  light  act  of  courage  in  those  days,  my  dear 
boys,  for  a little  fellow  to  say  his  prayers  publicly,  even  at 
Rugby.  A few  years  later,  when  Arnold’s  manly  piety  had 
begun  to  leaven  the  school,  the  tables  turned ; before  he 
died,  in  the  school-house  at  least,  and  I believe  in  the  other 
houses,  the  rule  was  the  other  way.  But  poor  Tom  had 
come  to  school  in  other  times.  The  first  few  nights  after 
he  came  he  did  not  kneel  down  because  of  the  noise,  but 
sat  up  in  bed  till  the  candle  was  out,  and  then  stole  out 
and  said  his  prayers  in  fear,  lest  some  one  should  find  him 
out.  So  did  many  another  poor  little  fellow.  Then  he 
began  to  think  that  he  might  just  as  well  say  his  prayers  in 
bed,  and  then  that  it  didn’t  matter  whether  he  was  kneel- 
ing, or  sitting,  or  lying  down.  And  so  it  had  come  to  pass 
with  Tom  as  with  all  who  will  not  confess  their  Lord 
before  men  : and  for  the  last  year  he  had  probably  not  said 
his  prayers  in  earnest  a dozen  times.  • 

Poor  Tom  ! the  first  and  bitterest  feeling  which  was  like 


170 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCliOOL-DAYS . 


to  break  his  heart  was  the  sense  of  his  own  cowardice. 
The  vice  of  all  others  which  he  loathed  was  brought  in  and 
burned  in  on  his  own  soul.  He  had  lied  to  his  mother,  to 
his  conscience,  to  his  God.  How  could  he  bear  it?  And 
then  the  poor  little  weak  boy,  whom  he  had  pitied  and  al- 
most scorned  for  his  weakness,  had  done  that  which  he, 
braggart  as  he  was,  dared  not  do.  The  first  dawn  of  com- 
fort came  to  him  in  swearing  to  himself  that  he  would  stand 
by  that  boy  through  thick  and  thin,  and  cheer  him,  and 
help  him,  and  bear  his  burdens,  for  the  good  deed  done  that 
night.  Then  he  resolved  to  write  home  next  day  and  tell 
his  mother  all,  and  what  a coward  her  son  had  been.  And 
then  peace  came  to  him  as  he  resolved,  lastly,  to  bear  his 
testimony  next  morning.  The  morning  would  be  harder 
than  the  night  to  begin  with,  but  he  felt  that  he  could  not 
afford  to  let  one  chance  slip.  Several  times  lie  faltered,  for 
the  devil  showed  him,  first,  all  his  old  friends  calling  him 

Saint”  and  “ Square-toes,”  and  a dozen  hard  names,  and 
whispered  to  him  that  his  motives  would  be  misunderstood, 
and  he  would  only  be  left  alone  with  the  new  boy ; where- 
as it  was  his  duty  to  keep  all  means  of  influence,  that  he 
might  do  good  to  the  largest  number.  And  then  came  the 
more  subtle  temptation,  u Shall  I not  be  showing  myself 
braver  than  others  by  doing  this  ? Have  I any  right  to  be- 
gin it  now?  Ought  I not  rather  to  pray  in  my  own  study, 
letting  other  boys  know  that  I do  so,  and  trying  to  lead 
them  to  it,  while  in  public  at  least  I should  go  on  as  I have 
done?”  However,  his  good  angel  was  too  strong  that 
night,  and  he  turned  on  his  side  and  slept,  tired  of  trying 
to  reason,  but  resolved  to  follow  the  impulse  which  had 
been  so  strong,  and  in  which  he  had  found  peace. 

Next  morning  he  was  up  and  washed  and  dressed,  all  but 
his  jacket  and  waistcoat,  just  as  the  ten  minutes’  bell  began 
to  ring,  and  then  in  the  face  of  the  whole  room  knelt  down 
to  pray.  Not  five  words  could  he  say — the  bell  mocked 
him  ; he  was  listening  for  every  whisper  in  the  room — what 
were  they  all  thinking  of  him?  He  was  ashamed  to  go  on 
kneeling,  ashamed  to  rise  from  his  knees.  At  last,  as  it 
were  from  his  inmost  heart,  a still  small  voice  seemed  to 
breathe  forth  the  words  of  the  publican,  “ God  be  merciful 
to  me  a sinner  ! ”•  He  repeated  them  over  and  over,  cling- 
ing to  them  as  for  his  life,  and  rose  from  his  knees  comfort-- 


HOW  THE  TIDE  TURNED. 


171 


ed  and  humbled,  and  ready  to  face  the  whole  world.  It 
was  not  needed  : two  other  boys  besides  Arthur  had  already 
followed  his  example,  and  he  went  down  to  the  great  school 
with  a glimmering  of  another  lesson  in  his  heart — the  les- 
son that  he  who  has  conquered  his  own  coward  spirit  has 
conquered  the  whole  outward  world;  and  that  other  one 
which  the  old  prophet  learned  in  the  cave  in  Mount  Horeb 
when  he  bid  his  face,  and  the  still  small  voice  asked,  “ What 
doest  thou  here,  Elijah?”  that,  however,  we  may  fancy 
ourselves  alone  on  the  side  of  good,  the  King  and  Lord  of 
men  is  nowhere  without  his  witnesses  ; for  in  every  society, 
however  seemingly  corrupt  and  godless,  there  are  those 
who  have  not  bowed  the  knee  to  Baal. 

He  found  too  how  greatly  he  had  exaggerated  the  effect 
to  be  produced  by  his  act.  For  a few  nights  there  was  a 
sneer  or  a laugh  when  he  knelt  down,  but  this  passed  off 
soon,  and  one  by  one  all  the  other  boys  but  three  or  four 
followed  the  lead.  I fear  that  this  was  in  some  measure 
owing  to  the  fact,  that  Tom  could  probably  have  thrashed 
any  boy  in  the  room  except  the  praepostor ; at  any  rate, 
every  boy  knew  that  he  would  try  upon  very  slight  provo- 
cation, and  didn’t  choose  to  run  the  risk  of  a hard  fight  be- 
cause Tom  Brown  had  taken  a fancy  to  say  his  prayers. 
Some  of  the  small  boys  of  number  4 communicated  the  new 
state  of  things  to  their  chums,  and  in  several  other  rooms 
the  poor  little  fellows  tried  it  on ; in  one  instance  or  so 
where  the  praepostor  heard  of  it  and  interfered  very  decided- 
ly, with  partial  success ; but  in  the  rest,  after  a short  strug- 
gle, the  confessors  were  bullied  or  laughed  down,  and  the  oi  l 
state  of  things  went  on  for  some  time  longer.  Before  eithe 
Tom  Brown  or  Arthur  left  the  school-house,  there  was  n 
room  in  which  it  had  not  become  the  regular  custom.  1 
trust  it  is  so  still,  and  that  the  old  heathen  state  of  things 
has  gone  out  forever. 


172 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-BAYS. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  NEW  BOY. 

And  Heaven's  rich  instincts  in  him  grew, 

As  effortless  as  woodland  nooks 

Send  violets  up  and  paint  them  blue. — Lowell. 

I DO  not  mean  to  recount  all  the  little  troubles  and  an- 
noyances which  thronged  upon  Tom  at  the  beginning  of 
this  half-year,  in  his  new  character  of  bear-leader  to  a 
gentle  little  boy  straight  from  home.  He  seemed  to  him- 
self to  have  become  a new  boy  again,  without  any  of  the 
long-suffering  and  meekness  indispensable  for  supporting 
that  character  with  moderate  success.  From  morning  till 
night  he  had  the  feeling  of  responsibility  on  his  mind;  and 
even  if  he  left  Arthur  in  their  study  or  in  the  close  for  an 
hour,  was  never  at  ease  till  he  had  him  in  sight  again.  He 
waited  for  him  at  the  doors  of  the  school  after  every  lesson 
and  every  calling-over;  watched  that  no  tricks  were  played 
him,  and  none  but  the  regulation  questions  asked ; kept 
Lis  eye  on  his  plate  at  dinner  and  breakfast,  to  see  that  no 
unfair  depredations  were  made  upon  his  viands  ; in  short, 
as  East  remarked,  cackled  after  him  like  a hen  with  one 
chick. 

Arthur  took  a long-time  thawing  too,  which  made  it  all 
the  harder  work  ; was  sadly  timid ; scarcely  ever  spoke 
unless  Tom  spoke  to  him  first ; and,  worst  of  all,  would 
agree  with  him  in  everything,  the  hardest  thing  in  the 
world  for  a Brown  to  bear.  He  got  quite  angry  sometimes, 
as  they  sat  together  of  a night  in  their  study,  at  this  pro- 
voking habit  of  agreement,  and  was  on  the  point  of  break- 
ing out  a dozen  times  with  a lecture  upon  the  propriety  of 
a fellow  having  a will  of  his  own  and  speaking  out ; but 
managed  to  restrain  himself  by  the  thought  that  it  might 
only  frighten  Arthur,  and  the  remembrance  of  the  lesson 
he  had  learned  from  him  on  his  first  night  at  number  4. 
Then  he  would  resolve  to  sit  still,  and  not  say  a word  till 
Arthur  began;  but  he  was  always  beat  at  that  game,  and 
had  presently  to  begin  talking  in  despair,  fearing  lest 
Arthur  might  think  he  was  vexed  at  something  if  he  didn’t, 
and  dog-tired  of  sitting  tongue-tied. 

It  was  hard  work ! But  Tom  had  taken  it  up,  and 


THE  NEW  BOY. 


178 


meant  to  stick  to  it,  and  go  through  with  it,  so  as  to  satis- 
fy himself ; in  which  resolution  he  was  much  assisted  by 
the  chaffing  of  East  and  his  other  old  friends,  who  began 
to  call  him  “ dry  nurse,”  and  otherwise  to  break  their  small 
wit  on  him.  But  when  they  took  other  ground,  as  they 
did  every  now  arid  then,  Tom  was  surely  puzzled. 

“Tell  you  what,  Tommy,”  East  would  say,  “ you’ll  spoil 
young  Hopeful  with  too  much  coddling.  Why  can’t  you 
let  him  go  about  by  himself  and  find  his  own  level?  He’ll 
never  be  worth  a button,  if  you  go  on  keeping  him  under 
your  skirts.” 

“ Well,  but  he  ain’t  fit  to  fight  his  own  way  yet ; I’m  try- 
ing to  get  him  to  it  every  day — but  he  is  very  odd.  Poor 
little  beggar  ! I can’t  make  him  out  a bit.  He  ain’t  a bit 
like  anything  I’ve  ever  seen  or  heard  of — he  seems  all  over 
nerves ; anything  you  say  seems  to  hurt  him  like  a cut  or 
a blow.” 

“ That  sort  of  boy’s  no  use  here,”  said  East,  “ he’ll 
only  spoil.  Now  I’ll  tell  you  w hat  to  do.  Tommy.  Go 
and  get  a nice  large  band-box  made,  and  put  him  in  with 
plenty  of  cotton  wool,  and  a pap-bottle,  labeled  6 With  care 
— this  side  up,’  and  send  him  back  to  mamma.” 

“ I think  I shall  make  a hand  of  him  though,”  said  Tom, 
smiling,  “ say  what  you  will.  There’s  something  about 
him,  every  now  and  then,  which  shows  me  he’s  got  pluck 
somewhere  in  him.  That’s  the  only  thing  after  all  that’ll 
wash,  ain’t  it,  old  Scud?  But  how  to  get  at  it  and  bring 
it  out  ? ” 

Tom  took  one  handout  of  his  breeches-pocket  and  stuck 
it  in  his  back  hair  for  a scratch,  giving  his  hat  a tilt  over 
his  nose,  his  one  method  of  invoking  wisdom.  . He  stared 
at  the  ground  with  a ludicrously  puzzled  look,  and  pres- 
ently looked  up  and  met  East’s  eyes.  That  young  gentle- 
man slapped  him  on  the  back,  and  then  put  his  arm  round 
his  shoulder,  as  they  strolled  through  the  quadrangle  to- 
gether. “ Tom,”  said  he,  “ blest  if  you  ain’t  the  best  old 
fellow  ever  was — I do  like  to  see  you  go  into  a thing. 
Hang  it,  I wish  I could  take  things  as  you  do — but  I never 
can  get  hig1  ‘ ‘oke.  Everything’s  a joke.  If  I 


blue  funk,  but  I couldn’t  help  laughing  at  it  for  the  life 
of  me,” 


was  going 


next  minute,  I should  be  in  a 


174 


TOM  BLOWN 9 S SCHOOL-DAYS. 


“ Brown  and  East,  you  go  and  fag  for  Jones  on  the  great 

fives’-court.” 

“ Hullo,  though  that’s  past  a joke,”  broke  out  East, 
springing  at  the  young  gentleman  who  addressed  them,  and 
catching  him  by  the  collar.  u Here,  Tommy,  catch  hold  of 
him  t'other  side  before  he  can  holla.” 

The  youth  was  seized,  and  dragged  struggling  out  of  the 
quadrangle  into  the  school-house  hall.  He  was  one  of  the 
miserable  little  pretty  white-handed,  curly-headed  boys, 
pettied  and  pampered  by  some  of  the  big  fellows,  who 
wrote  their  verses  for  them,  taught  them  to  drink  and  use 
bad  language,  and  did  all  they  could  to  spoil  them  for 
everything*  in  this  world  and  the  next.  One  of  the  avo- 
cations in  which  these  young  gentlemen  took  particular 
delight  Avas  in  going  about  and  getting  fags  for  their 
protectors,  when  those  heroes  were  playing  any  game. 
They  carried  about  pencil  and  paper  with  them,  putting 
down  the  names  of  all  the  boys  they  sent,  always  sending 
five  times  as  many  as  were  wanted,  and  getting  all  those 
thrashed  wdio  didn’t  go.  The  present  youth  belonged  to 
a house  which  was  very  jealous  of  the  school-house,  and 
always  picked  out  school-house  fags  when  he  could  find 
them.  However,  this  time  he’d  got  the  wrong  sow  by  the 
ear.  His  captors  slammed  the  great  door  of  the  Hall,  and 
East  put  his  back  against  it,  while  Tom  gave  the  prisoner  a 
shake  up,  took  away  his  list,  and  stood  him  up  on  the  floor, 
while  he  proceeded  leisurely  to  examine  that  document. 

“ Let  me  out,  let  me  go  ! ” screamed  the  boy  in  a furious 
passion.  “I’ll  go  and  tell  Jones  this  minute,  and  he’ll  give 

you  both  the thrashing  you  ever  had.” 

“ Pretty  little  dear,”  said  East,  patting  the  top  of  his 
hat;  “ hark  how  he  swears,  Tom.  Nicely  brought  up  young 
man,  ain’t  he,  I don’t  think.” 

“ Let  me  alone, you,”  roared  the  boy,  foaming  with 

rage,  and  kicking  at  East,  who  quietly  tripped  him  up,  and 
deposited  him  on  the  floor  in  a place  of  safety. 

“ Gently,  young  fellow,”  said  he  ; “ ’taint  improving  for 

* A kind  and  wise  critic,  an  old  Bugboean,  notes  here  in  the  margin  : 
The  “ small  friend  system  was  not  so  utterly  bad  from  1841-1847.”  Be- 
fore that,  too,  there  were  many  noble  friendships  between  big  and  little 
boys,  but  I can’t  strike  out  the  passage  : many  boys  will  know  why  it  is 
left  in, 


THE  NEW  BOY. 


175 


little  whippersnappers  like  you  to  be  indulging  in  blas- 
phemy; so  you  stop  that,  or  you’ll  get  something  you 
won’t  like.” 

“ I’ll  have  you  both  licked  when  I get  out,  that  I will,” 
rejoined  the  boy,  beginning  to  snivel. 

“Two  can  play  at  that  game,  mind  you,”  said  Tom,  who 
had  finished  his  examination  of  the  list.  “Now  you  just 
listen  here.  We’ve  just  come  across  the  fives’-court,  and 
Jones  has  four  fags  there  already,  two  more  than  he  wants. 
If  he’d  wanted  us  to  change,  he’d  have  stopped  us  himself. 
And  here,  you  little  blackguard,  you’ve  got  seven  names 
down  on  your  list  besides  ours,  and  five  of  them  school- 
house.”  Tom  walked  up  to  him  and  jerked  him  on  to  his 
legs  ; he  was  by  this  time  whining  like  a whipped  puppy. 

“Now  just  listen  to  me.  We  ain’t  going  to  fag  for 
Jones.  If  you  tell  him  you’ve  sent  us,  we’ll  each  of  us 
give  you  such  a thrashing  as  you’ll  remember,”  and  Tom 
tore  up  the  list  and  threw  the  pieces  into  the  fire. 

“ And  mind  you,  too,”  said  East,  “ don’t  let  me  catch 
you  again  sneaking  about  the  school-house,  and  picking  up 
our  fags.  You  haven’t  got  the  sort  of  hide  to  take  a sound 
licking  kindly  ; ” and  he  opened  the  door  and  sent  the  young 
gentleman  flying  into  the  quadrangle,  with  a parting  kick. 

“ Nice  boy,  Tommy,”  said  East,  shoving  his  hands  in  his 
pockets  and  strolling  to  the  fire. 

“Worst  sort  we  breed,”  responded  Tom,  following  his 
example.  “ Thank  goodness,  no  big  fellow  ever  took  to 
petting  me.” 

“ You’d  never  have  been  like  that,”  said  East.  “ I should 
like  to  have  put  him  in  a museum  : — Christian  young  gen- 
tleman, nineteenth  century,  highly  educated.  Stir  him  up 
with  a long  pole,  Jack,  and  hear  him  swear  like  a drunken 
sailor! — He’d  make  a respectable  public  open  its  eyes,  I 

“ Think  he’ll  tell  Jones?  ” said  Tom. 

“No,”  said  East.  “ Don’t  care  if  he  does.” 

“ Nor  I,”  said  Tom.  And  they  went  back  to  talk  about 
Arthur. 

The  young  gentleman  had  brains  enough  not  to  tell 
Jones,  reasoning  that  East  and  Brown,  who  were  noted  as 
some  of  the  toughest  fags  in  the  school,  wouldn’t  care 
three  straws  for  any  licking  Jones  might  give  them,  and 


176 


TOM  BROWN'  & SCHOOL-DAYS. 


would  be  likely  to  keep  tbeir  words  as  to  passing  it  on  with 
interest. 

After  the  above  conversation,  East  came  a good  deal  to 
their  study,  and  took  notice  of  Arthur ; and  soon  allowed 
to  Tom  that  he  was  a thorough  little  gentleman,  and  would 
get  over  his  shyness  all  in  good  time ; which  much  com- 
forted our  hero.  He  felt  every  day,  too,  the  value  of  hav- 
ing an  object  in  his  life,  something  that  drew  him  out  of 
himself;  and,  it  being  the  dull  time  of  the  year,  and  no 
games  going  about  which  he  much  cared,  was  happier  than 
he  had  ever  yet  been  at  school,  which  was  saying  a great 
deal. 

The  time  which  Tom  allowed  himself  away  from  his 
charge,  was  from  locking-up  till  supper-time.  During  this 
hour  or  hour-and-half  he  used  to  take  his  fling,  going  round 
to  the  studies  of  all  his  acquaintances,  sparring  or  gossiping 
in  the  hall,  now  jumping  the  old  iron-bound  tables,  or  carv- 
ing a bit  of  his  name  on  them,  then  joining  in  some  chorus 
of  merry  voices ; in  fact,  blowing  off  his  steam,  as  we 
should  now  call  it. 

This  process  was  so  congenial  to  his  temper,  and  Arthur 
showed  himself  so  pleased  at  the  arrangement,  that  it  was 
several  weeks  before  Tom  was  ever  in  their  study  before 
supper.  One  evening,  however,  he  rushed  in  to  look  for 
an  old  chisel,  or  some  corks,  or  other  articles  essential  to 
his  pursuit  for  the  time  being,  and  while  rummaging  about 
in  the  cupboards,  looked  up  for  a moment,  and  was  caught 
at  once  by  the  figure  of  poor  little  Arthur.  The  boy  was 
sitting  with  his  elbows  on  the  table,  and  his  head  leaning 
on  his  hands,  and  before  him  an  open  book,  on  which  his 
tears  were  falling  fast.  Tom  shut  the  door  at  once,  and 
sat  down  on  the  sofa  by  Arthur,  putting  his  arm  around 
his  neck. 

44  Why,  young  un ! what’s  the  matter  ? ” said  he,  kindly ; 
44  you  ain’t  unhappy,  are  you  ? ” 

44  Oh  no,  Brown,”  said  the  little  boy,  looking  up  with 
the  great  tears  in  his  eyes,  44  you  are  so  kind  to  me,  I’m 
very  happy.” 

46  Why  don’t  you  call  me  Tom  ? Lots  of  boys  do  that  I 
don’t  like  half  so  much  as  you.  What  are  you  reading, 
then?  Hang  it,  you  must  come  about  with  me,  and  not 
mope  yourself,”  and  Tom  cast  down  his  eyes  on  the  book, 


THE  NEW  BOY. 


17? 


and  saw  it  was  the  Bible.  He  was  silent  for  a minute, 
and  thought  to  himself,  44  Lesson  Number  2,  Tom  Brown,” 
— and  then  said  gently — 

44  I’m  very  glad  to  see  this,  Arthur,  and  ashamed  that  I 
don’t  read  the  Bible  more  myself.  Do  you  read  it  every 
night  before  supper  while  Tm  out?” 

44  Yes.” 

44  Well,  I wish  you’d  wait  till  afterward,  and  then  we’d 
read  together.  But,  Arthur,  why  does  it  make  you  cry  ? ” 

44  Oh,  it  isn’t  that  I’m  unhappy.  But  at  home,  while 
my  father  was  alive,  we  always  read  the  lessons  after  tea ; 
and  I love  to  read  them  over  now,  and  try  to  remember 
what  he  said  about  them.  I can’t  remember  all,  and  I 
think  I scarcely  understand  a great  deal  of  what  I do 
remember.  But  it  all  comes  back  to  me  so  fresh,  that  I 
can’t  help  crying  sometimes  to  think  I shall  never  read  them 
again  with  him.” 

Arthur  had  never  spoken  of  his  home  before,  and  Tom 
hadn’t  encouraged  him  to  do  so,  as  his  blundering  school- 
boy reasoning  made  him  think  that  Arthur  would  be  soft- 
ened and  less  manly  for  thinking  of  home.  But  now  he 
was  fully  interested,  and  forgot  all  about  chisels  and  bottled 
beer;  while  with  very  little  encouragement  Arthur  launch- 
ed into  his  home  history,  and  the  prayer-bell  put  them 
both  out  sadly  when  it  rang  to  call  them  to  the  hall. 

From  this  time  Arthur  constantly  spoke  of  his  home, 
and  above  all  of  his  father,  who  had  been  dead  about  a 
year,  and  whose  memory  Tom  soon  got  to  love  and  rever- 
ence almost  as  much  as  his  own  son  did. 

Arthur’s  father  had  been  the  clergyman  of  a parish  in 
the  Midland  Counties,  which  had  risen  into  a large  town 
during  the  war,  and  upon  which  the  hard  years  which 
followed  had  fallen  with  a fearful  weight.  The  trade  had 
been  half  ruined:  and  then  came  the  old  sad  story,  of 
masters  reducing  their  establishments,  men  turned  off  and 
wandering  about  hungry  and  wan  in  body  and  fierce  in 
soul,  from  the  thought  of  wives  and  children  starving  at 
home,  and  the  last  sticks  of  furniture  going  to  the  pawn- 
shop. Children  taken  from  school,  and  lounging  about  the 
dirty  streets  and  courts,  too  listless  almost  to  play,  and 
squalid  in  rags  and  misery.  And  then  the  fearful  struggle 
between  the  employers  and  men  ; lowerings  of  wages, 


1?8  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS . 

strikes,  and  the  long  course  of  oft-repeated  crime,  ending 
every  now  and  then  with  a riot,  a fire,  and  the  county 
yeomanry.  There  is  no  need  here  to  dwell  upon  such 
tales  ; the  Englishman  into  whose  soul  they  have  not  sunk 
deep  is  not  worthy  the  name;  you  English  boys  for  whom 
this  book  is  meant  (God  bless  your  bright  faces  and  kind 
hearts  !)  will  learn  it  all  soon  enough. 

Into  such  a parish  and  state  of  society,  Arthur’s  father 
had  been  thrown  at  the  age  of  twenty-five,  a young  married 
parson,  full  of  faith,  hope  and  love.  He  had  battled  with 
it  like  a man,  and  had  lots  of  fine  Utopian  ideas  about  the 
perfectibility  of  mankind,  glorious  humanity  and  such-like 
knocked  out  of  his  head  ; and  a real  wholesome  Christian 
love  for  the  poor  struggling,  sinning  men,  of  whom  he  felt 
himself  one,  and  with  and  for  whom  he  spent  fortune,  and 
strength,  and  life,  driven  into  his  heart.  He  had  battled 
like  a man,  and  had  got  a man’s  reward.  No  silver  teapots 
or  salvers,  with  flowery  inscriptions,  setting  forth  his 
virtues  and  the  appreciation  of  a genteel  parish ; no  fat 
living  nor  stall,  for  which  he  never  looked,  and  didn’t  care  ; 
no  sighs  and  praises  of  comfortable  dt) wagers  and  well  got- 
up  young  women,  who  worked  him  slippers,  sugared  his 
tea,  and  adored  him  as  6 a devoted  man  ’ ; but  a manly  re- 
spect, wrung  from  the  unwilling  souls  of  men  who  fancied 
his  order  their  natural  enemies  ; the  fear  and  hatred  of 
every  one  who  was  false  or  unjust  in  the  district,  were  he 
master  or  man  ; and  the  blessed  sight  of  women  and  Chil- 
ds en  daily  becoming  more  human  and  more  homely,  a com- 
fort to  themselves  and  to  their  husbands  and  fathers. 

These  things  of  course  took  time,  and  had  to  be  fought 
for  with  toil  and  sweat  of  brain  and  heart,  and  with  the 
life-blood  poured  out.  All  that,  Arthur  had  laid  his  ac- 
count to  give,  and  took  as  a matter  of  course  ; neither  pity- 
ing himself,  nor  looking  on  himself  as  a martyr,  when  he 
felt  the  wear  and  tear  making  him  feel  old  before  his  time, 
and  the  stifling  air  of  fever  dens  telling  on  his  health. 
His  wife  seconded  him  in  everything.  She  had  been 
rather  fond  of  society,  and  much  admired  and  run  after 
before  her  marriage  ; and  the  London  world,  to  which  she 
had  belonged,  pitied  poor  Fanny  Evelyn  when  she  married 
the  young  clergyman  and  went  to  settle  in  that  smoky  hole 
Turley,  a very  nest  of  Chartism  and  Atheism,  in  a part  of 


THE  NEW  BOY. 


179 


the  county  which  all  the  decent  families  had  had  to  leave 
for  years.  However,  somehow  or  other  she  didn’t  seem  to 
care.  If  her  husband’s  living  had  been  among  green  fields 
and  near  pleasant  neighbors,  she  would  have  liked  it  better, 
that  she  never  pretended  to  deny.  But  there  they  were  : 
the  air  wasn’t  bad  after  all  ; the  people  were  very  good 
sort  of  people,  civil  to  you  if  you  were  civil  to  them,  after 
the  first  brush ; and  they  didn’t  expect  to  work  miracles, 
and  convert  them  all  off-hand  into  model  Christians.  So 
he  and  she  went  quietly  among  the  folk,  talking  to  and 
treating  them  just  as  they  would  have  done  people  of  their 
own  rank.  They  didn’t  feel  that  they  were  doing  anything 
out  of  the  common  way,  and  so  were  perfectly  natural,  and 
had  none  of  that  condescension  or  consciousness  of  manner 
which  so  outrages  the  independent  poor.  And  thus  they 
gradually  won  respect  and  confidence ; and  after  sixteen 
years  he  was  looked  up  to  by  the  whole  neighborhood 
as  the  just  man,  the  man  to  whom  masters  and  men 
could  go  to  in  their  strikes,  and  in  all  their  quarrels 
and  difficulties,  and  by  whom  the  right  and  true  word 
would  be  said  without  fear  or  favor.  And  the  women  had 
come  round  to  take  her  advice,  and  go  to  her  as  a friend  in 
all  their  troubles ; while  the  children  all  worshiped  the 
very  ground  she  trod  on. 

They  had  three  children,  two  daughters  and  a son,  little 
Arthur,  who  came  between  his  sisters.  He  had  been  a 
very  delicate  boy  from  his  childhood  ; they  thought  he  had 
a tendency  to  consumption,  and  so  he  had  been  kept  at 
home  and  taught  by  his  father,  who  had  made  a companion 
of  him,  and  from  whom  he  had  gained  good  scholarship, 
and  a knowledge  of  and  interest  in  many  subjects  which 
boys  in  general  never  come  across,  till  they  are  many  years 
older. 

Just  as  he  reached  his  thirteenth  year,  and  his  father  had 
settled  that  he  was  strong  enough  to  go  to  school,  and, 
after  much  debating  with  himself,  had  resolved  to  send  him 
there,  a desperate  typhus-fever  broke  out  in  the  town ; 
most  of  the  other  clergy,  and  almost  all  the  doctors,  ran 
away  ; the  work  fell  with  tenfold  weight  on  those  who 
stood  to  their  work.  Arthur  and  his  wife  both  caught  the 
fever,  of  which  he  died  in  a few  days,  and  she  recovered, 
having  been  able  to  nurse  him  to  the  end,  and  store  up  his 


180 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-BAYS 


last  words.  He  was  sensible  to  the  last,  and  calm  and 
happy,  leaving  his  wife  and  children  with  fearless  trust  for 
a few  years  in  the  hands  of  the  Lord  and  Friend  who  had 
lived  and  died  for  him,  and  for  whom  he,  to  the  best  of  his 
power,  had  lived  and  died.  His  widow’s  mourning  was 
deep  and  gentle  ; she  was  more  affected  by  the  request  of 
the  Committee  of  a Free-thinking  Club,  established  in  the 
town  by  some  of  the  factory  hands,  (which  he  had  striven 
against  with  might  and  main,  and  nearly  suppressed),  that 
some  o l their  number  might  be  allowed  to  help  bear  the 
coffin,  than  by  anything  else.  Two  of  them  were  chosen, 
who  with  six  other  laboring  men,  his  own  fellow-workmen 
and  friends,  bore  him  to  his  grave — a man  who  had  fought 
the  Lord’s  fight  even  unto  the  death.  The  shops  were 
closed  and  the  factories  shut  that  day  in  the  parish,  yet  no 
master  stopped  the  day’s  wages  ; but  for  many  a year 
afterward  the  townsfolk  felt  the  want  of  that  brave,  hope- 
ful, loving  parson,  and  his  wife,  who  had  lived  to  teach 
them  mutual  forbearance  and  helpfulness,  and  had  almost 
at  last  given  them  a glimpse  of  what  this  old  world  would 
be  if  people  would  live  for  God  and  each  other,  instead  of 
for  themselves. 

What  has  all  this  to  do  with  our  story  ? Well,  my  dear 
boys,  let  a fellow  go  on  his  own  way,  or  you  won’t  get  anj^- 
thing  out  of  him  worth  having.  I must  show  you  what 
sort  of  a man  it  was  who  had  begotten  and  trained  little 
Arthur,  or  else  you  won’t  believe  in  him,  which  I am  re- 
solved you  shall  do ; and  you  won’t  see  how  he,  the  timid 
weak  boy,  had  points  in  him  from  which  the  bravest  and 
strongest  recoiled,  and  made  his  presence  and  example  felt 
from  the  first  on  all  sides,  unconsciously  to  himself,  and 
without  the  least  attempt  at  proselytizing.  The  spirit  of 
his  father  was  in  him,  and  the  Friend  to  whom  his  father 
had  left  him  did  not  neglect  the  trust. 

After  supper  that  night,  and  almost  nightly  for  years 
afterward,  Tom  and  Arthur,  and  by  degrees  East  occasion- 
ally, and  sometimes  one,  sometimes  another,  of  their  friends, 
read  a chapter  of  the  Bible  together,  and  talked  it  over 
afterward.  Tom  was  at  first  utterly  astonished,  and  almost 
shocked,  at  the  sort  of  way  in  which  Arthur  read  the  book, 
and  talked  about  the  men  and  women  whose  lives  were 
there  told.  The  first  night  they  happened  to  fall  on  the 


THE  NEW  BOY. 


181 


chapters  about  the  famine  in  Egypt,  and  Arthur  began 
talking  about  Joseph  as  if  he  were  a living  statesman  ; 
just,  as  he  might  have  talked  about  Lord  Grey  and  the 
Reform  Bill  ; only  that  they  were  much  more  living  realities 
to  him.  The  book  was  to  him,  Tom  saw,  the  most  vivid 
and  delightful  history  of  real  people,  who  might  do  right 
or  wrong,  just  like  any  one  who  was  walking  about  in 
Rugby — the  Doctor,  or  the  masters,  or  the  sixth-form  boys. 
But  the  astonishment  soon  passed  off,  the  scales  seemed  to 
drop  from  his  eyes,  and  the  book  became  at  once  and  for- 
ever to  him  the  great  human  and  divine  book,  and  the 
men  and  women,  whom  he  had  looked  upon  as  something 
quite  different  from  himself,  became  his  friends  and  coun- 
selors. 

For  our  purposes,  however,  the  history  of  one  night’s 
reading  will  be  sufficient,  which  must  be  told  here,  now  we 
are  on  the  subject,  though  it  didn’t  happen  till  a year  after- 
ward, and  long  after  the  events  recorded  in  the  next  chap- 
ter of  our  story. 

Arthur,  Tom  and  East  were  together  one  night,  and  read 
the  story  of  Naaman  coming  to  Elisha  to  be  cured  of  his 
leprosy.  When  the  chapter  was  finished,  Tom  shut  his 
Bible  with  a slap. 

“I  can’t  stand  that  fellow  Naaman,”  said  he,  “ after 
what  he’d  seen  and  felt,  going  back  and  bowing  himself 
down  in  the  house  of  Rimmon,  because  his  effeminate 
scoundrel  of  a master  did  it.  I wonder  Elisha  took  the 
trouble  to  heal  him.  How  he  must  have  despised  him.” 

“ Yes,  there  you  go  off  as  usual,  with  a shell  on  your 
head,”  struck  in  East,  who  always  took  the  opposite  side 
to  Tom  ; half  from  love  of  argument,  half  from  conviction. 
“ How  do  you  know  he  didn’t  think  better  of  it?  How 
do  you  know  his  master  was  a scoundrel  ? His  letter  don’t 
look  like  it,  and  the  book  don’t  say  so.” 

“I  don’t  care,”  rejoined  Tom;  “ why  did  Naaman  talk 
about  bowing  down,  then,  if  he  didn’t  mean  to  do  it?  He 
wasn’t  likely  to  get  more  in  earnest  when  he  got  back  to 
court,  and  away  from  the  prophet.” 

“ Well  but, Tom,”  said  Arthur,  “look  what  Elisha  said 
to  him,  ‘Go  in  peace.’  He  wouldn’t  have  said  that  if  Naa- 
man had  been  in  the  wrong.” 

“ I don’t  see  that  that  means  more  than  saying,  ‘You’re 
not  the  man  I took  you  for.” 


182 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-BAYS. 


“ No,  no,  that  won’t  do  at  all,”  said  East;  “read  the  words 
fairly,  and  take  men  as  you  find  them.  I like  Naaman,  and 
think  he  was  a very  fine  fellow.” 

“ I don’t,”  said  Tom  positively. 

“ Well,  I think  East  is  right,  said  Arthur;  “I  can’t  see 
but  what  it’s  right  to  do  the  best  you  can,  though  it  mayn’t 
be  the  best  absolutely.  Every  man  isn’t  born  to  be  a 
martyr.” 

“ Of  course,  of  course,”  said  East;  “but  he’s  on  one  of 
his  pet  hobbies.  How  often  have  I told  you,  Tom,  that  you 
must  drive  a nail  where  it  ’ll  go,” 

“ And  how  often  have  T told  you,”  rejoined  Tom,  “ that 
it  ’ll  always  go  where  you  want,  if  you  only  stick  to  it  and 
hit  hard  enough.  I hate  half  measures  and  compromises.” 
“ Yes,  he’s  a whole-hog  man,  is  Tom.  Must  have  the 
whole  animal,  hair  and  teeth,  claws  and  tail,”  laughed  East. 
“ Sooner  have  no  bread  any  day  than  half  the  loaf.” 

“I  don’t  know,”  said  Arthur,  “ it’s  rather  puzzling  ; but 
ain’t  most  right  things  got  by  proper  compromises,  I mean 
where  the  principle  isn’t  given  up  ? ” 

“That’s  just  the  poiot,”  said  Tom ; “ I don’t  object  to  a 
compromise  where  you  don’t  give  up  your  principle.” 

“Not you,”  said  East  laughingly.  “I  know  him  of  old. 
Arthur,  and  you’ll  find  him  out  some  day.  There  isn’t 
such  a reasonable  fellow  in  the  world,  to  hear  him  talk. 
He  never  wants  anything  but  what’s  right  and  fair ; only 
when  you  come  to  settle  what’s  right  and  fair,  it’s  every- 
thing that  he  wants,  and  nothing  that  you  want.  And 
that’s  his  idea  of  a compromise.  Give  me  the  Brown  com- 
promise when  I’m  on  his  side.” 

“Now,  Harry,”  said  Tom,  “no  more  chaff — I’m  serious. 
Look  here — this  is  what  makes  my  blood  tingle and  he 
turned  over  the  pages  of  his  Bible  and  read,  “ Shadrach, 
Meshach,  and  Abednego  answered  and  said  to  the  king, 

6 O Nebuchadnezzar,  we  are  not  careful  to  answer  thee  in 
this  matter.  If  it  be  so,  our  God  whom  we  serve  is  able  to 
deliver  us  from  the  burning  fiery  furnace,  and  he  will  de- 
liver us  out  of  thine  hand,  O king.  But  if  not,  be  it  known 
unto  thee,  O king,  that  we  will  not  serve  thy  gods,  nor  wor- 
ship the  golden  image  which  thou  hast  set  up.’  ” He  read 
the  last  verse  twice,  emphasizing  the  nots,  and  dwelling  on 
them  as  if  they  gave  him  actual  pleasure,  and  were  hard  to 
part  with. 


ARTHUR  MAKES  A FRIEND . 


183 


They  were  silent  a minute,  and  then  Arthur  said,  “ Yes, 
that’s  a glorious  story,  but  it  don’t  prove  your  point,  Tom, 
I think.  There  are  times  when  there  is  only  one  way,  and 
that  the  highest,  and  then  the  men  are  found  to  stand  in 
the  breach.” 

“ There’s  always  a highest  way,  and  it’s  always  the  right 
one,”  said  Tom.  “ How  many  times  has  the  Doctor  told 
us  that  in  his  sermons  in  the  last  year,  I should  like  to 
know  ? ” 

64  Well,  you  ain’t  going  to  convince  us,  is  he,  Arthur? 
No  Brown  compromise  to  night,”  said  East,  looking  at  his 
watch.  “ But  it’s  past  eight,  and  we  must  go  to  first  les- 
son. What  a bore  ! ” 

So  they  took  down  their  books  and  fell  to  work ; but 
Arthur  didn’t  forget,  and  thought  long  and  often  over  the 
conversation. 


CHAPTER  III. 

ARTHUR  MAKES  A FRIEND. 

Let  nature  be  your  teacher  : 

Sweet  is  the  lore  which  Nature  brings; 

Our  meddling  intellect 

Misshapes  the  beauteous  forms  of  things. 

We  murder  to  dissect — 

Enough  of  Science  and  of  Art ; 

Close  up  those  barren  leaves  ; 

Come  forth,  and  bring  with  you  a heart 
That  watches  and  receives. — Wordswobth. 

About  six  weeks  after  the  beginning  of  the  half,  as  Tom 
and  Arthur  were  sitting  one  night  before  supper  beginning 
their  verses,  Arthur  suddenly  stopped,  and  looked  up,  and 
said,  “ Tom,  do  you  know  anything  of  Martin  ? ” 

“ Yes,”  said  Tom,  taking  his  hand  out  of  his  back  hair, 
and  delighted  to  throw  his  Grradus  ad  Parnassum  on  to  the 
sofa  ; “I  know  him  pretty  well.  He’s  a very  good  fellow, 
but  as  mad  as  a hatter.  He’s  called  Madman,  you  know. 
And  never  was  such  a fellow  forgetting  all  sorts  of  rum 
things  about  him.  He  tamed  two  snakes  last  half,  and  used 
to  carry  them  about  in  his  pocket,  and  I’ll  be  bound  he’s  got 
some  hedgehogs  and  rats  in  his  cupboard  now,  and  no  one 
knows  what  besides.” 

“ I should  like  very  much  to  know  him,”  said  Arthur  ; “ he 


184 


TOM  BROWN9 S SCHOOL-DAYS. 


was  next  to  me  in  the  form  to-day,  and  he’d  lost  his  book  and 
looked  over  mine,  and  he  seemed  so  kind  and  gentle  that  I 
liked  him  very  much.” 

44  Ah,  poor  old  Madman,  he’s  always  losing  his  books,” 
said  Tom,  44  and  getting  called  up  and  floored  because  he 
hasn’t  got  them.” 

44  I like  him  all  the  better,”  said  Arthur. 

44  Well,  he’s  great  fun,  I can  tell  you,”  said  Tom  throwing 
himself  back  on  the  sofa,  and  chuckling  at  the  remembrance. 
44  We  had  such  a game  with  him  one  day  last  half.  He  had 
been  kicking  up  horrid  stinks  for  some  time  in  his  study,  till 
I suppose  some  fellow  told  Mary,  and  she  told  the  Doctor. 
Anyhow,  one  day  a little  before  dinner,  when  he  came  down 
from  the  library,  the  Doctor  instead  of  going  home,  came 
striding  into  the  hall.  East  and  I and  five  or  six  other  fel- 
lows were  at  the  fire,  and  preciously  we  stared,  for  he  don’t 
come  in  like  that  once  a-year,  unless  it  is  a wet  day  and 
there  is  a fight  in  the  hall.  6 East,’  says  he,  4 just  come  and 
show  me  Martin’s  study.’  4 Oh,  here’s  a game,’  whispered 
the  rest  of  us,  and  we  all  cut  up  stairs  after  the  Doctor,  East 
leading.  As  we  got  into  the  New  Row,  which  was  hardly 
wide  enough  to  hold  the  Doctor  and  his  gown,  click,  click, 
click,  we  heard  in  the  old  Madman’s  den.  Then  that  stop- 
ped all  of  a sudden,  and  the  bolts  went  to  like  fun ; the 
Madman  knew  East’s  step,  and  thought  there  was  going  to 
be  a siege. 

44  4 It’s  the  Doctor,  Martin.  He’s  here  and  wants  to  see 
you,’  sings  out  East. 

44  Then  the  bolts  went  back  slowly,  and  the  door  opened, 
and  there  was  the  old  Madman  standing,  looking  precious 
scared;  his  jacket  off,  his  shirt-sleeves  up  to  his  elbows,  and 
his  long  skinny  arms  all  covered  with  anchors  and  arrows 
and  letters,  tattooed  in  with  gunpowder  like  a sailor-boy’s, 
and  a stink  fit  to  knock  you  down  coming  out.  ’Twas  all 
the  Doctor  could  do  to  hold  his  ground,  and  East  and  I, 
who  were  looking  in  under  his  arms,  held  our  noses  tight. 
The  old  magpie  was  standing  on  the  window-sill,  all  his 
feathers  drooping,  and  looking  disgusted  and  half-poisoned. 

44  4 What  can  you  be  about,  Martin  ? ’ says  the  Doctor ; 
4 you  really  mustn’t  go  on  in  this  way — you’re  a nuisance 


Alt  THU It  MAKES  A FRIEND. 


185 


isn’t  any  harm  in  it ; ’ and  the  Madman  seized  nervously  on 
his  pestle  and  mortar,  to  show  the  Doctor  the  harmlessness 
of  his  pursuits,  and  went  off  pounding;  click,  click,  click; 
he  hadn’t  given  six  clicks  before,  puff  ! up  went  the  whole 
into  a great  blaze,  away  went  the  pestle  and  mortar  across 
the  study,  and  back  we  tumbled  into  the  passage.  The 
magpie  fluttered  down  into  the  court,  swearing  and  the 
Madman  danced  out,  howling,  with  his  fingers  in  his  mouth. 
The  Doctor  caught  hold  of  him,  and  called  to  us  to  fetch 
some  water.  ‘There,  you  silly  fellow,’  said  he,  quite  pleased 
though  to  find  he  wasn’t  much  hurt,  4 you  see  you  don't 
know  the  least  what  you’re  doing  with  all  these  things ; and 
now,  mind,  you  must  give  up  practicing  chemistry  by 
yourself.’  Then  he  took  hold  of  his  arm  and  looked  at  it, 
and  I saw  he  had  to  bite  his  lip,  and  his  eyes  twinkled  ; but 
he  said,  quite  grave,  4 Here,  you  see,  you’ve  been  making 
all  these  foolish  marks  on  yourself,  which  you  can  never 
get  out,  and  you’ll  be  very  sorry  for  it  in  a year  or  two  : now 
come  down  to  the  housekeeper’s  room,  and  let  us  see  if  you 
are  hurt.’  And  away  went  the  two,  and  we  all  stayed  and 
had  a regular  turn-out  of  the  den,  till  Martin  came  back 
with  his  hand  bandaged  and  turned  us  out.  However,  I’ll 
go  and  see  what  he’s  after,  and  tell  him  to  come  in  after 
prayers  to  supper.”  And  away  went  Tom  to  find  the  boy 
in  question,  who  dwelt  in  a little  study  by  himself,  in  New 
Row. 

The  aforesaid  Martin,  whom  Arthur  had  taken  such  a 
fancy  for,  was  one  of  those  unfortunates  who  were  at  that 
time  of  day  (and  are,  I fear,  still)  quite  out  of  their  places 
at  a public  school.  If  we  knew  how  to  use  our  boys, 
Martin  would  have  been  seized  upon  and  educated  as  a nat- 
ural philosopher.  He  had  a passion  for  birds,  beasts,  and 
insects,  and  knew  more  of  them  and  their  habits  than  any 
one  in  Rugby ; except  perhaps  the  Doctor,  who  knew  every- 
thing. He  was  also  an  experimental  chemist  on  a small 
scale,  and  had  made  unto  himself  an  electric  machine,  from 
which  it  was  his  greatest  pleasure  and  glory  to  administer 
small  shocks  to  any  small  boys  who  were  rash  enough  to 
venture  into  his  study.  And  this  was  by  no  means  an 
adventure  free  from  excitement ; for,  besides  the  probabil- 
ity of  a snake  dropping  on  to  your  head  or  twining  lovingly 
up  your  leg,  or  a rat  getting  into  your  breeches-pocket  in 


186 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-BAYS. 


search  of  food,  there  was  the  animal  and  chemical  odor  to 
be  faced,  which  always  hung  about  the  den,  and  the  chance 
of  being  blown  up  in  some  of  the  many  experiments  which 
Martin  was  always  trying,  with  the  most  wondrous  results 
in  the  shape  of  explosions  and  smells  that  mortal  boy  ever 
heard  of.  Of  course,  poor  Martin,  in  consequence  of  his 
pursuits,  had  become  an  Ishmaelite  in  the  house.  In  the 
first  place,  he  half-poisoned  all  his  neighbors,  and  they  is 
turn  were  always  on  the  look-out  to  pounce  upon  any  of 
his  numerous  live-stock,  and  drive  him  frantic  by  enticing 
his  pet  old  magpie  out  of  his  window  into  a neighboring- 
study,  and  making  the  disreputable  old  bird  drunk  on  toast 
soaked  in  beer  and  sugar.  Then  Martin,  for  his  sins,  inhab- 
ited a study  looking  into  a small  court  some  ten  feet  across, 
the  window  of  which  was  completely  commanded  by  those 
of  the  studies  opposite  in  the  sick-room  row,  these  latter 
being  at  a slightly  higher  elevation.  East,  and  another  boy 
of  an  equally  tormenting  and  ingenious  turn  of  mind,  now 
lived  exactly  opposite,  and  had  expended  huge  pains  and 
time  in  the  preparation  of  instruments  of  annoyance  for  the 
behoof  of  Martin  and  his  live  company.  One  morning  an 
old  basket  made  its  appearance,  suspended  by  a short  cord 
outside  Martin’s  window,  in  which  were  deposited  an  ama- 
teur nest  containing  four  young  hungry  jackdaws,  the  pride 
and  glory  of  Martin’s  life  for  the  time  being,  and  which  he 
was  currently  asserted  to  have  hatched  upon  his  own  person. 
Early  in  the  morning,  and  late  at  night  he  was  to  be  seen 
half  out  of  the  window,  administering  to  the  varied  wants 
of  his  callow  brood.  After  deep  cogitation,  East  and  Iris 
chum  had  spliced  a knife  on  to  the  end  of  a fishing-rod ; an  ! 
having  watched  Martin  out,  had,  after  half  an  hour’s  sever e 
sawing,  cut  the  string  by  which  the  basket  was  suspended, 
and  tumbled  it  on  to  the  payment  below,  with  hideous  re- 
monstrance from  the  occupants.  Poor  Martin,  returning 
from  his  short  absence,  collected  the  fragments  and  re- 
placed his  brood  (except  one  whose  neck  had  been  broken 
in  the  descent)  in  their  old  location,  suspending  them  this 
time  by  string  and  wire  twisted  together,  defiant  of  any 
sharp  instrument  which  his  persecutors  could  command. 
But,  like  the  Russian  engineers  at  Sebastopol,  East  and  his 
chum  had  an  answer  for  every  move  of  the  adversary;  and 
the  next  day  had  mounted  a gun  in  the  shape  of  a pea- 


ARTHUR  MAKES  A FRIEND. 


187 


shooter,  upon  the  ledge  of  their  window,  trained  so  as  to 
bear  exactly  upon  the  spot  which  Martin  had  to  occupy 
while  tending  his  nurselings.  The  moment  he  began  to 
feed,  they  began  to  shoot ; in  vain  did  the  enemy  himself 
invest  in  a pea-shooter,  and  endeavor  to  answer  the  fire 
while  he  fed  the  young  birds  with  his  other  hand;  his  atten- 
tion was  divided,  and  his  shots  flew  wild,  while  every  one 
of  theirs  told  on  his  face  and  hands,  and  drove  him  into 
howlings  and  imprecations.  He  had  been  driven  to  en- 
sconce the  nest  in  a corner  of  his  already  too  ^veil-filled  den. 

His  door  was  barricaded  by  a set  of  ingenious  bolts  of 
his  own  invention,  for  the  sieges  were  frequent  by  the 
neighbors  when  any  unusually  ambrosial  odor  spread  itself 
from  the  den  to  the  neighboring  studies.  The  door  panels 
were  in  a normal  state  of  smash,  but  the  frame  of  the  door 
resisted  all  besiegers,  and  behind  it  the  owner  carried  on 
his  varied  pursuits  ; much  in  the  same  state  of  mind,  I 
should  fancy,  as  a Border-farmer  lived  in,  in  the  days  of 
the  old  moss-troopers,  when  his  gold  might  be  summoned 
or  his  cattle  carried  off  at  any  minute  of  night  or  day. 

“ Open,  Martin,  old  boy — it’s  only  I,  Tom  Brown.” 

“ Oh,  very  well,  stop  a moment.”  One  bolt  went  back. 
“ You’re  sure  East  isn’t  there.” 

“ No,  no,  hang  it,  open.”  Tom  gave  a kick,  the  other 
bolt  creaked,  and  he  entered  the  den. 

Den  indeed  it  was,  about  five  feet  six  inches  long  by 
five  wide,  and  seven  feet  high.  About  six  tattered  school- 
books, and  a few  chemical  books,  Taxidermy,  Stanley  on 
Birds,  and  an  odd  volume  of  Bewick,  the  latter  in  much 
better  preservation,  occupied  the  top  shelves.  The  other 
shelves,  where  they  had  not  been  cut  away  and  used  by  the 
owner  for  other  purposes,  were  fitted  up  for  the  abiding 
places  of  birds,  beasts  and  reptiles.  There  was  no  attempt 
at  carpet  or  curtain.  The  table  was  entirely  occupied  by 
the  great  work  of  Martin,  the  electric  machine,  which  was 
covered  carefully  with  the  remains  of  his  table-cloth.  The 
jackdaw  cage  occupied  one  wall,  and  the  other  was  adorned 
by  a small  hatchet,  a pair  of  climbing  irons,  and  his  tin 
candle-box,  in  which  he  was  for  the  time  being  endeavoring 
to  raise  a hopeful  young  family  of  field  mice.  As  nothing 
should  be  let  to  lie  useless,  it  was  well  that  the  candle-box 
was  thus  occupied,  for  candles  Martin  never  had.  A pound 


188 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-BAYS. 


was  issued  to  him  weekly,  as  to  the  other  boys,  but  as 
candles  were  available  capital,  and  easily  exchangeable  for 
birds’-eggs  or  young  birds,  Martin’s  pound  invariably 
found  its  way  in  a few  hours  to  Howlett’s  the  bird-fancier’s 
in  the  Bilton  road,  who  would  give  a hawk’s  or  nightin- 
gale’s egg  or  young  linnet  in  exchange.  Martin’s  ingen- 
uity was  therefore  forever  on  the  rack  to  supply  himself 
with  a light ; just  now  he  had  hit  upon  a grand  invention, 
and  the  den  was  lighted  by  a flaring  cotton-wick  issued 
from  a ginger  beer-bottle  full  of  some  doleful  composition. 
When  light  altogether  failed  him,  Martin  would  loaf  about 
by  the  fires  in  the  passages  or  hall  after  the  manner  of 
Diggs,  and  try  to  do  his  verses  or  learn  his  lines  by  the 
fire-light. 

“ Well,  old  boy,  you  haven’t  got  any  sweeter  in  the  den 
this  half.  How  that  stuff  in  the  bottle  stinks.  Never  mind, 
I ain’t  going  to  stop,  but  you  come  up  after  prayers  to  our 
study ; you  know  young  Arthur;  we've  got  Gray’s  study. 
We’ll  have  a good  supper- and  talk  about  birds’-nesting.” 

Martin  was  evidently  highly  pleased  at  the  invitation, 
and  promised  to  be  up  without  fail. 

As  soon  as  prayers  were  over,  and  the  sixth  and  fifth- 
form  boys  had  withdrawn  to  the  aristocratic  seclusion  of 
their  own  room,  and  the  rest,  or  democracy,  had  sat  down 
to  their  supper  in  the  hall,  Tom  and  Arthur,  having  se- 
cured their  allowances  of  bread  and  cheese,  started  on 
their  feet  to  catch  the  eye  of  the  praepostor  of  the  week, 
who  remained  in  charge  during  supper,  walking  up  and 
down  the  hall.  He  happened  to  be  an  easj'-going  fellow, 
so  they  got  a pleasant  nod  to  their  “ Please  may  I go  out?  ” 
and  away  they  scrambled  to  prepare  for  Martin  a sumpt- 
uous banquet.  This  Tom  had  insisted  on,  for  he  was  in 
great  delight  on  the  occasion ; the  reason  of  which  delight 
must  be  expounded.  The  fact  was,  this  was  the  first 
attempt  at  a friendship  of  his  own  which  Arthur  had  made, 
and  Tom  hailed  it  as  a grand  step.  The  ease  with  which 
he  himself  became  hail-fellow-well-met  with  anybody,  and 
blundered  into  and  out  of  twenty  friendships  a half-year, 
made  him  sometimes  sorry  and  sometimes  angry  at  Arthur’s 
reserve  and  loneliness.  True,  Arthur  was  always  pleasant 
and  even  jolly,  with  any  boys  who  came  with  Tom  to  their 
study ; but  Tom  felt  that  it  was  only  through  him,  as  it 


ARTHUR  MAKES  A FRIEND. 


189 


were,  that  his  chum  associated  with  others,  and  that  but  for 
him  Arthur  would  have  been  dwelling  in  a wilderness. 
This  increased  his  consciousness  of  responsibility ; and 
though  he  hadn’t  reasoned  it  out  and  made  it  clear  to  him- 
self, yet  somehow  he  knew  that  this  responsibility,  this 
trust  which  he  had  taken  on  him  without  thinking  about 
it,  head  over  heels  in  fact,  was  the  center  and  turning  point 
of  his  school-life,  that  which  was  to  make  him  or  mar  him ; 
his  appointed  work  and  trial  for  the  time  being.  And  Tom 
was  becoming  a new  boj^,  though  with  frequent  tumbles 
in  the  dirt  and  perpetual  hard  battles  with  himself,  and 
was  daily  growing  in  manfulness  and  thoughtfulness,  as 
every  high-couraged  and  well-principled  boy  must,  when 
he  finds  himself  for  the  first  time  consciously  at  grips  with 
self  and  the  devil.  Already  he  could  turn  almost  without 
a sigh  from  the  school-gates,  from  which  had  just  scam- 
pered off  East  and  three  or  four  others  of  his  own  partic- 
ular set,  bound  for  some  jolly  lark  not  quite  according  to 
law,  and  involving  probably  a row  with  louts,  keepers,  or 
farm-laborers,  the  skipping  dinner  or  calling-over,  some  of 
Phoebe  Jenning’s  beer,  and  a very  possible  flogging  at  the 
end  of  all  as  a relish.  He  had  quite  got  over  the  stage  in 
which  he  would  grumble  to  himself,  “Well,  hang  it,  it’s 
very  hard  of  the  Doctor  to  have  saddled  me  with  Arthur. 
Why  couldn’t  he  have  chummed  him  with  Fogey,  or  Thom- 
kin,  or  any  of  the  fellows  who  never  do  anything  but  walk 
round  the  close,  and  finish  their  copies  the  first  day  they’re 
set  ? ” But  although  all  this  was  past,  he  often  longed, 
and  felt  that  he  was  right  in  longing  for  more  time  for  the 
legitimate  pastimes  of  cricket  fives,  bathing,  and  fishing 
within  bounds,  in  which  Arthur  could  not  yet  be  his  com- 
panion ; and  he  felt  that  when  the  young  ’un  (as  he  now 
generally  called  him)  had  found  a pursuit  and  some  other 
friend  for  himself,  he  should  be  able  to  give  more  time  to 
the  education  of  his  own  body  with  a clear  conscience. 

And  now  what  he  so  wished  for  had  come  to  pass;  he 
almost  hailed  it  as  a special  providence  (as  indeed  it  was, 
but  not  for  the  reasons  he  gave  it — what  providences  are  ?) 
that  Arthur  should  have  singled  out  Martin  of  all  fellows 
for  a friend.  “ The  old  Madman  is  the  very  fellow,” 
thought  he ; “ he  will  take  him  scrambling  over  half  the  coun- 
try after  bird’s  eggs  and  flowers,  make  him  run  and  swim 


190 


TOM  BROWN’S  SCHOOL-BAYS. 


and  climb  like  an  Indian,  and  not  teach  him  a word  of  any- 
thing bad,  or  keep  him  from  his  lessons.  What  luck ! ” 
And  so,  with  more  than  his  usual  heartiness,  he  dived  into 
his  cupboard,  and  hauled  out  an  old  knucklebone  of  ham, 
and  two  or  three  bottles  of  beer,  together  with  the  solemn 
pewter  only  used  on  state  occasions  ; while  Arthur,  equally 
elated  at  the  easy  accomplishment  of  his  first  act  of  volition 
in  the  joint  establishment,  produced  from  his  side  a bot- 
tle of  pickless  and  a pot  of  jam,  and  cleared  the  table.  In 
a minute  or  two  the  noise  of  the  boys  coming  up  from  sup- 
per was  heard,  and  Martin  knocked  and  was  admitted,  bear- 
ing his  bread  and  cheese,  and  the  three  fell  to  with  hearty 
good-will  upon  the  viands,  talking  faster  than  they  ate,  for 
all  shyness  disappeared  in  a moment  before  Tom’s  bottled 
beer  and  hospitable  ways.  “ Here’s  Arthur,  a regular  young 
town  mouse,  with  a natural  taste  for  the  woods,  Martin, 
longing  to  break  his  neck  climbing  trees  and  with  a pas- 
sion for  young  snakes.” 

“Well,  I say,”  sputtered  out  Martin  eagerly,  “will  you 
come  to-morrow,  both  of  you,  to  Caldecott’s  Spinney,  then, 
for  I know  of  a kestrel’s  nest,  up  a fir-tree — I can’t  get  at 
it  without  help ; and,  Brown  you  can  climb  against  any 
one.” 

“Oh  yes,  do  let  us  go,”  said  Arthur ; “I  never  saw  a 
hawk’s  nest,  nor  a hawk’s  egg.” 

“ You  just  come  down  to  my  study  then,  and  I’ll  show 
you  five  sorts,”  said  Martin. 

“Ay,  the  old  Madman  has  got  the  best  collection  in  the 
house,  out-and-out,”  said  Tom ; and  then  Martin,  warming 
with  unaccustomed  good  cheer  and  the  chance  of  a con- 
vert, launched  out  into  a proposed  birds’-nesting  campaign 
betraying  all  manner  of  important  secrets ; a golden  crest- 
ed wren’s  nest  near  Butlin’s  Mound,  a moor-hen  that  was 
sitting  on  nine  eggs  in  a pond  down  the  Barby  Road,  and 
a king  fisher’s  nest  in  a corner  of  the  old  canal  above 
Brownsover  Mill.  He  had  heard,  he  said,  that  no  one  had 
ever  got  a kingfisher’s  nest  out  perfect,  and  that  the  Brit- 
ish Museum,  or  the  Government,  or  somebody,  had  offer- 
ed £100  to  any  one  who  could  bring  them  a nest  and  eggs 
not  damaged.  In  the  middle  of  which  astounding  announce- 
ment, to  which  the  others  were  listening  with  open  ears, 
already  considering  the  application  of  the  £100,  a knock 


ARTHUR  MAKES  A FRIEND . 


191 


came  at  the  door,  and  East’s  voice  was  heard  craving 
admittance. 

44  There’s  Harry,”  said  Tom ; 44  we’ll  let  him  in — I’ll  keep 
him  steady,  Martin.  I thought  the  old  boy  would  smell 
out  the  supper.” 

The  fact  was  that  Tom’s  heart  had  already  smitten  him 
Tor  not  asking  his  “jidus  Achates  ” to  the  feast,  although 
only  an  extempore  affair ; and  though  prudence  and  the 
desire  to  get  Martin  and  Arthur  together  alone  at  first  had 
overcome  his  scruples,  he  was  now  heartily  glad  to  open  the 
door,  broach  another  bottle  of  beer,  and  hand  over  the  old 
harmknuckle  to  the  searching  of  his  old  friend’s  pocket- 
knife. 

44  Ah,  you  greedy  vagabonds,”  said  East,  with  his  mouth 
full;  44 1 knew  there  was  something  going  on  when  I saw 
you  cut  off  out  of  hall  so  quick  with  your  suppers.  What 
a stunning  tap,  Tom ! you  are  a wunner  for  bottling  the 
swipes.” 

44  I’ve  had  practice  enough  for  the  sixth  in  my  time,  and 
it’s  hard  if  I haven’t  picked  up  a wrinkle  or  two  for  my 
own  benefit.” 

44  Well,  old  Madman,  how  goes  the  birds’-nesting  cam- 
paign ? How’s  Howlett  ? I expect  the  young  rooks’ll  be 
out  in  another  fortnight,  and  then  my  turn  comes.” 

44  There’ll  be  no  young  rooks  fit  for  pies  for  a month  yet ; 
shows  how  much  you  know  about  it,”  rejoined  Martin,  who 
though  very  good  friends  with  East,  regarded  him  with 
considerable  suspicion  for  his  propensity  to  practical  jokes. 

44  Scud  knows  nothing  and  cares  for  nothing  but  grub 
and  mischief,”  said  Tom;  44  But  young  rook  pie,  specially 
when  you’ve  had  to  climb  for  them,  is  very  pretty  eating. 
However,  I say,  Scud,  we’re  all  going  after  a hawk’s  nest 
to-morrow,  in  Caldecott’s  Spinney ; and  if  you’ll  come  and 
behave  yourself,  we’ll  have  a stunning  climb.” 

44  And  a bathe  in  Aganippe.  Hooray ! I’m  your  man  ! ” 

44 No,  no;  no  bathing  in  Aganippe;  that’s  where  our 
betters  go.” 

44  Well,  well,  never  mind.  I’m  for  the  hawk’s  nest  and 
anything  that  turns  up.” 

And  the  bottled-beer  being  finished,  and  his  hunger 
appeared,  East  departed  to  his  study,  44  that  sneak  Jones,” 
as  he  informed  them,  who  had  just  got  into  the  sixth  and 


192 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


occupied  the  next  study,  having  instituted  a nightly  visi- 
tation upon  East  and  his  chum,  to  their  no  small  discom- 
fort. 

When  he  was  gone,  Martin  rose  to  follow,  but  Tom 
stopped  him. 

“No  one  goes  near  New  Row,”  said  he,  “so  you  may 
just  as  well  stop  here  and  do  your  verses,  and  then  we’ll 
have  some  more  talk.  We’ll  be  no  end  quiet ; besides,  no 
praepostor  comes  here  now — we  haven’t  been  visited  once 
this  half.’ 

So  the  table  was  cleared,  the  cloth  restored,  and  the 
three  fell  to  work  with  Gradus  and  dictionary  upon  the 
morning’s  vulgus. 

They  were  three  very  fair  examples  of  the  way  in  which 
such  tasks  were  done  at  Rugby,  in  the  consulship  of  Plan- 
cus.  And  doubtless  the  method  is  little  changed,  for  there 
is  nothing  new  under  the  sun,  especially  at  school. 

Now  be  it  known  unto  all  you  boys  who  are  at  schools 
which  do  not  rejoice  in  the  time-honored  institution  of  the 
Vulgus  (commonly  supposed  to  have  been  established  by 
William  of  Wykeham  at  Winchester,  and  imported  to 
Rugby  by  Arnold,  more  for  the  sake  of  the  lines  which 
were  learned  by  heart  with  it,  than  fo#its  own  intrinsic 
value,  as  I’ve  always  understood)  that  it  is  a short  exercise, 
in  Greek  or  Latin  verse,  on  a given  subject,  the  minimum 
number  of  lines  being  fixed  for  each  form.  The  master  of 
the  form  gave  out  at  fourth  lesson  on  the  previous  day  the 
subject  for  next  morning’s  vulgus,  and  at  first  lesson  each 
boy  had  to  bring  his  vulgus  ready  to  be  looked  over ; and 
with  the  vulgus,  a certain  number  of  lines  from  one  of  the 
Latin  or  Greek  poets  then  being  construed  in  the  form  had 
to  be  got  by  heart.  The  master  at  first  lesson  called  up 
each  boy  in  the  form  in  order,  and  put  him  on  in  the  lines. 
If  he  couldn’t  say  them,  or  seem  to  say  them,  by  reading 
them  off  the  master’s  or  some  other  boy’s  book  who  stood 
near,  he  was  sent  back,  and  went  below  all  the  boys  who 
did  so  say  or  seem  to  say  them  ; but  in  either  case  his  vul- 
gus was  looked  over  by  the  master,  who  gave  and  entered 
in  his  book,  to  the  credit  or  discredit  of  the  boy,  so  many 
marks  as  the  composition  merited.  At  Rugby  vulgus  and 
lines  were  the  first  lesson  every  other  day  in  the  week,  or 
Tuesdays,  Thursdays,  and  Saturdays ; and  as  there  were 


ARTHUR  MAKES  A FRIEND. 


193 


thirty-eight  weeks  in  the  school  year,  it  is  obvious  to  the 
meanest  capacity  that  the  master  of  each  form  had  to  set 
one  hundred  and  fourteen  subjects  every  year,  two  hun- 
dred and  twenty-eight  every  two  years,  and  so  on.  Now 
to  persons  of  moderate  invention  this  was  a considerable 
task,  and  human  nature  being  prone  to  repeat  itself,  it  will 
not  be  wondered  that  the  masters  gave  the  same  subjects 
sometimes  over  again  after  a certain  lapse  of  time.  To 
meet  and  rebuke  this  bad  habit  of  the  masters,  the  school- 
boy mind,  with  its  accustomed  ingenuity,  had  invented  an 
elaborate  system  of  tradition.  Almost  every  boy  kept  his 
own  vulgus  written  out  in  a book,  and  these  books  were 
duly  handed  down  from  boy  to  boy,  till  (if  the  tradition 
had  gone  on  until  now)  I suppose  the  popular  boys,  in 
whose  hands  bequeathed  vulgus-books  have  accumulated, 
are  prepared  with  three  or  four  vulguses  on  any  subject  in 
heaven  or  earth,  or  in  “more  worlds  than  one,”  which  an 
unfortunate  master  can  pitch  upon.  At  any  rate,  such 
lucky  fellows  had  generally  one  for  themselves  and  one 
for  a friend  in  my  time.  The  only  objection  to  the  tradi- 
tionary method  of  doing  your  vulguses  was,  the  risk  that 
the  successions  might  have  become  confused,  and  so  that 
you  and  another  follower  of  traditions  should  show  up  the 
same  identical  vulgus  some  fine  morning  ; in  which  case, 
when  it  happened,  considerable  grief  was  the  result — but 
when  did  such  risk  hinder  boys  or  men  from  short  cuts 
and  pleasant  paths  ? 

Now  in  the  study  that  night,  Tom  was  the  upholder  of 
the  traditionary  method  of  vulgus  doing.  He  carefully 
produced  two  large  vulgus-books,  and  began  diving  into 
them,  and  picking  out  a line  here,  and  an  ending  there 
(tags,  as  they  were  vulgarly  called),  till  he  had  gotten  all 
that  he  thought  he  could  make  fit.  He  then  proceeded 
to  patch  his  tags  together  with  the  help  of  his  Gradus,  pro- 
ducing an  incongruous  and  feeble  result  of  eight  elegiac 
lines,  the  minimum  quantity  for  his  form,  and  finishing  up 
with  two  highly  moral  lines  extra,  making  ten  in  all,  which 
he  cribbed  entire  from  one  of  his  books,  beginning  “ 0 
genus  humanum ,”  and  which  he  himself  must  have  used  a 
dozen  times  before,  whenever  an  unfortunate  or  wicked 
hero,  of  whatever  nation  or  language  under  the  sun,  was 
the  subject.  Indeed,  he  began  to  have  great  doubt 

13 


194  TOM  BROWN’S  SCHOOL-BATS. 

whether  the  master  wouldn’t  remember  them,  and  so  only 
threw  them  in  as  extra  lines,  because  in  any  case  they 
would  call  off  attention  from  the  other  tags,  and  if  de- 
tected, being  extra  lines,  he  wouldn’t  be  sent  back  to  do 
two  more  in  their  place,  while  if  they  passed  muster  again 
he  would  get  marks  for  them. 

The  second  method  pursued  by  Martin  maybe  called  the 
dogged,  or  prosaic  method.  He,  no  more  than  Tom,  took 
any  pleasure  in  the  task,  but  having  no  old  vulgus  books 
of  his  own  or  any  one’s  else,  could  not  follow  the  tradi- 
tionary method,  for  which  too,  as  Tom  remarked,  he 
hadn’t  the  genius.  Martin  then  proceeded  to  write  down 
eight  lines  in  English,  of  the  most  matter  of  fact  kind,  the 
first  that  came  into  his  head ; and  to  convert  these,  line  by 
line,  by  main  force  of  Gradus  and  dictionary,  into  Latin 
that  would  scan.  This  was  all  he  cared  for,  to  produce 
eight  lines  with  no  false  quantities  or  concords  : whether 
the  words  were  apt,  or  what  the  sense  was,  mattered 
nothing  ; and,  as  the  article  was  all  new,  not  a line  beyond 
the  minimum  did  the  followers  of  the  dogged  method  ever 
produce. 

The  third,  or  artistic  method,  was  Arthur’s.  He  con- 
sidered first  what  point  in  the  character  or  event  which 
was  the  subject  could  most  neatly  be  brought  out  within 
the  limits  of  a vulgus,  trying  always  to  get  his  idea  into 
the  eight  lines,  but  not  binding  himself  to  ten  or  even 
twelve  lines  if  he  couldn’t  do  this.  He  then  set  to  work, 
as  much  as  possible  without  Gradus  or  other  help,  to  clothe 
his  idea  in  appropriate  Latin  or  Greek,  and  would  not  be 
satisfied  till  he  had  polished  it  well  up  with  the  aptest  and 
most  poetic  words  and  phrases  he  could  get  at. 

A fourth  method  indeed  was  used  in  the  school,  but  of 
too  simple  a kind  to  require  a comment.  It  may  be  called 
the  vicarious  method,  obtained  among  big  boys  of  lazy  or 
bullying  habits,  and  consisted  simply  in  making  clever  boys 
whom  they  could  thrash  do  their  whole  vulgus  for  them, 
and  construe  it  to  them  afterward ; which  latter  is  a method 
not  to  be  encouraged,  and  which  I strongly  advise  you  all 
not  to  practice.  Of  the  others,  you  will  find  the  tradition- 
ary most  troublesome,  unless  you  can  steal  your  vulguses 
whole  ( experto  crede ),  and  that  the  artistic  method  pays 
the  best  both  in  marks  and  other  ways. 


THE  BIRD-CATCHER. 


195 


The  vulguses  being  finished  by  nine  o’clock,  and  Martin 
having  rejoiced  above  measure  in  the  abundance  of  light, 
and  of  Gradus  and  dictionary,  and  other  conveniences  al- 
most unknown  to  him  for  getting  through  the  work,  and 
having  been  pressed  by  Arthur  to  come  and  do  his  verses 
there  whenever  he  liked,  the  three  boys  went  down  to 
Martin’s  den,  and  Arthur  was  initiated  into  the  lore  of 
bird’s-eggs,  to  his  great  delight.  The  exquisite  coloring 
and  forms  astonished  and  charmed  him  who  had  scarcely 
ever  seen  any  but  a hen’s  egg  or  an  ostrich’s,  and  by  the 
time  he  was  lugged  away  to  bed  he  had  learned  the  names 
of  at  least  twenty  sorts,  and  dreamed  of  the  glorious  perils 
of  tree-climbing,  and  that  he  had  found  a roc’s  egg  in  the 
island  as  big  as  Sinbad's  and  clouded  like  a tit-lark’s,  in 
blowing  which  Martin  and  he  had  nearly  been  drowned  in 
the  yolk. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  BIRD-FANCIERS. 

I have  found  out  a gift  for  my  fair, 

I have  found  where  the  wood-pigeons  breed 

But  let  me  the  plunder  forbear, 

She  would  say  ’twas  a barbarous  deed. 

Rowe. 

And  now,  my  lad,  take  them  five  shilling, 

And  on  my  advice  in  future  think  ; 

So  Billy  pouched  them  all  so  willing, 

4ud  got  that  night  disguised  in  drink. 

MS.  Ballad. 

The  next  morning  at  first  lesson  Tom  was  turned  back 
in  his  lines,  and  so  had  to  wait  till  the  second  round,  while 
Martin  and  Arthur  said  theirs  all  right  and  got  out  of 
schqol  at  once.  When  Tom  got  out  and  ran  down  to  break- 
fast at  Harro well’s  they  were  missing,  and  Stumps  informed 
him  that  they  had  swallowed  down  their  breakfasts  and  gone 
off  together,  where  he  couldn’t  say.  Tom  hurried  over  his 
own  breakfast,  and  went  first  to  Martin’s  study  and  then 
to  his  own,  but  no  signs  of  the  missing  boys  were  to  be 
found.  He  felt  half  angry  and  jealous  of  Martin— where 
could  they  be  gone  ? 

He  learned  second  lesson  with  East  and  the  rest  in  no  very 
good  temper,  and  then  went  out  into  the  quadrangle.  About 


196 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


ten  minutes  before  school  Martin  and  Arthur  arrived  in 
the  quadrangle  breathless ; and,  catching  sight  of  him, 
Arthur  rushed  up  all  excitement  and  with  a bright  glow 
on  his  face. 

44  Oh,  Tom,  look  here,”  cried  he,  holding  out  three  moor- 
hen’s eggs  ; 44  we’ve  been  down  the  Barby  road  to  the  pool 
Martin  told  us  of  last  night,  and  just  see  what  we’ve  got.” 

Tom  wouldn’t  be  pleased,  and  only  looked  out  for  some- 
thing to  find  fault  with. 

44  Why,  young  un,”  said  he,  44  what  have  you  been  after  ? 
You  don’t  mean  to  say  you’ve  been  wading  ? ” 

The  tone  of  reproach  made  poor  little  Arthur  shrink  up 
in  a moment  and  look  piteous,  and  Tom  with  a shrug  of 
his  shoulders  turned  his  anger  on  Martin. 

“ Well,  I didn’t  think,  Madman,  that  you’d  have  been 
such  a muff  as  to  let  him  be  getting  wet  through  at  this 
time  of  day.  You  might  have  done  the  wading  yourself.” 

44  So  I did,  of  course,  only  he  would  come  in  too  to  see 
the  nest.  We  left  six  eggs  in:  they’ll  be  hatched  in  a 
day  or  two.” 

“ Hang  the  eggs  ! ” said  Tom  ; 44  a fellow  can’t  turn  his 
back  for  a moment  but  all  his  work’s  undone.  He’ll  be 
laid  up  for  a week  for  this  precious  lark,  I’ll  be  bound.” 

44  Indeed,  Tom,  now,”  pleaded  Arthur,  44  my  feet  ain’t 
wet,  for  Martin  made  me  take  off  my  shoes  and  stockings 
and  trousers.” 

44  But  they  are  wet  and  dirty,  too — can’t  I see  ? ” an- 
swered Tom  ; 44  and  you’ll  be  called  up  and  floored  when  the 
master  sees  what  a state  you’re  in.  You  haven’t  looked  at 
second  lesson,  you  know.”  Oh  Tom,  you  old  humbug ! 
you  to  be  upbraiding  any  one  with  not  learning  their 
lessons  ! If  you  hadn’t  been  floored  yourself  now  at  first 
lesson,  do  you  mean  to  say  you  wouldn’t  have  been  with 
them?  and  you’ve  taken  away  all  poor  little  Arthur’s  joy 
and  pride  in  his  first  birds’  eggs ; and  he  goes  and  puts 
them  down  in  the  study,  and  takes  down  his  books  with  a 
sigh,  thinking  he  has  done  something  horribly  wrong, 
whereas  he  has  learned  on  in  advance  much  more  than 
will  be  done  at  second  lesson. 

But  the  old  Madman  hasn’t,  and  gets  called  up  and  makes 
some  frightful  shots,  losing  about  ten  places,  and  all  but 
getting  floored.  This  somewhat  appeases  Tom’s  wrath, 


THE  BIRD-CATCHER. 


197 


and  by  the  end  of  the  lesson  he  has  regained  his  temper. 
And  afterward  in  their  study  he  begins  to  get  right  again, 
as  he  watches  Arthur’s  intense  joy  at  seeing  Martin  blow- 
ing the  eggs  and  gluing  them  carefully  on  to  bits  of  card- 
board, and  notes  the  anxious,  loving  looks  which  the  little 
fellow  casts  sidelong  at  him.  And  then  he  thinks,  44  What 
an  ill-tempered  beast  I am  ? Here’s  just  what  I was  wish- 
ing for  last  night  come  about,  and  I’m  spoiling  it  all,”  and 
in  another  five  minutes  has  swallowed  the  last  mouthful  of 
his  bile,  and  is  repaid  by  seeing  his  little  sensitive-plant 
expand  again,  and  sun  itself  in  his  smiles. 

After  dinner  the  Madman  is  busy  with  the  preparations 
for  their  expedition,  fitting  new  straps  on  to  his  climbing- 
irons,  filling  large  pill-boxes  with  cotton  wool,  and  sharp- 
ening East’s  small  axe.  They  carry  all  their  munitions 
into  calling-over,  and  directly  afterward,  having  dodged 
such  praepostors  as  are  on  the  look-out  for  fags  at  cricket, 
the  four  set  off  at  a smart  trot  down  the  Lawford  footpath 
straight  for  Caldecott’s  Spinney  and  the  hawk’s  nest. 

Martin  leads  the  way  in  high  feather ; it  is  quite  a new 
sensation  to  him  getting  companions,  and  he  finds  it  very 
pleasant,  and  means  to  show  them  all  manner  of  proofs  of 
his  science  and  skill.  Brown  and  East  may  be  better  at 
cricket  and  football  and  games,  thinks  he,  but  out  in  the 
fields  and  woods  see  if  I can’t  teach  them  something.  He 
has  taken  the  leadership  already,  and  strides  away  in  front 
with  his  climbing-irons  strapped  under  one  arm,  his  pecking- 
bag  under  the  other,  and  his  pockets  and  hat  full  of  pill- 
boxes, cotton  wool,  and  other  etceteras.  Each  of  the  others 
carries  a pecking-bag,  and  East  his  hatchet. 

When  they  had  crossed  three  or  four  fields  without  a 
check,  Arthur  began  to  lag,  and  Tom  seeing  this  shouted 
to  Martin  to  pull  up  a bit : 44  We  ain’t  out  hare-and-hounds 
— what’s  the  good  of  grinding  on  at  this  rate  ? ” 

“ There’s  the  Spinney,”  said  Martin,  pulling  up  on  the 
brow  of  a slope  at  the  bottom  of  which  lay  Lawford  brook, 
and  pointing  to  the  top  of  the  opposite  slope ; 44  the  nestis 
in  one  of  those  high  fir-trees  at  this  end.  And  down  by 
the  brook  there,  I know  of  a sedge-bird’s  nest ; we’ll  go 
and  look  at  it  coming  back.” 

44  Oh,  come  on,  don’t  let  us  stop,’’  said  Arthur,  who  was 
getting  excited  at  the  sight  of  the  wood ; so  they  broke 


198 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


into  a trot  again,  and  were  soon  across  the  brook,  up  the 
slope,  and  into  the  Spinney.  Here  they  advanced  as  noise- 
lessly as  possible,  lest  keepers  or  other  enemies  should  be 
about,  and  stopped  at  the  foot  of  a tall  fir,  at  the  top  of 
which  Martin  pointed  out  with  pride  the  kestrel’s  nest,  the 
object  of  their  quest. 

“ Oh  where  ! which  is  it  ? ” asks  Arthur,  gaping  up  in  the 
air,  and  having  the  most  vague  idea  of  what  it  Would  be 
like. 

“ There,  don’t  you  see?  ” said  East,  pointing  to  a lump 
of  mistletoe  in  the  next  tree,  which  was  a beech ; he  saw 
that  Martin  and  Tom  were  busy  with  the  climbing-irons, 
and  couldn’t  resist  the  temptation  of  hoaxing.  Arthur 
stared  and  wondered  more  than  ever. 

“ Well,  how  curious ! it  doesn’t  look  a bit  like  what  I 
expected,’’  said  he. 

“Very  odd  birds,  kestrels,”  said  East,  looking  waggishly 
at  his  victim,  who  was  still  star-gazing. 

“ But  I thought  it  was  in  a fir-tree  ? ” objected  Arthur. 

“Ah,  don’t  you  know?  that’s  a new  sort  of  fir,  which 
old  Caldecott  brought  from  the  Himalayas.” 

“ Really  ! ” said  Arthur ; “ I’m  glad  I know  that— how 
unlike  our  firs  they  are ! They  do  very  well  too  here, 
don’t  they?  The  Spinney’s  full  of  them.” 

“What’s  that  humbug  he’s  telling  you?”  cried  Tom, 
looking  up,  having  caught  the  world  Himalayas,  and  sus- 
pecting what  East  was  after. 

“ Only  about  this  fir,”  said  Arthur,  putting  his  hand  on 
the  stem  of  the  beech. 

“ Fir ! ” shouted  Tom,  “ why,  you  don’t  mean  to  say, 
young  un,  you  don’t  know  a beech  when  you  see  one  ? ” 

Poor  little  Arthur  looked  terribly  ashamed,  and  East 
exploded  in  laughter  which  made  the  wood  ring. 

“ I’ve  hardly  ever  seen  any  trees,”  faltered  Arthur. 

“ What  a shame  to  hoax  him,  Scud ! ” cried  Martin. 
“ Never  mind,  Arthur,  you  shall  know  more  about  trees 
than  he  does  in  a week  or  two.” 

“ And  isn’t  that  the  kestrel’s  nest,  then  ? ” asked  Arthur. 

“ That ! why  that’s  a piece  of  mistletoe.  There’s  the 
nest,  that  lump  of  sticks  up  this  fir.” 

“ Don’t  believe  him,  Arthur,”  struck  in  the  incorrigible 
East;  “I  just  saw  an  old  magpie  go  out  of  it/’ 


THE  BIRD-CATCHER. 


199 


Martin  did  not  deign  to  reply  to  this  sally,  except  by  a 
grunt,  as  he  buckled  the  last  buckle  of  his  climbing-irons  ; 
and  Arthur  looked  reproachfully  at  East  without  speak- 
ing. 

But  now  came  the  tug  of  war.  It  was  a very  difficult 
tree  to  climb  until  the  branches  were  reached,  the  first  of 
which  was  some  fourteen  feet  up,  for  the  trunk  was  too 
large  at  the  bottom  to  be  swarmed ; in  fact,  neither  of  the 
boys  could  reach  more  than  half  round  it  with  their  arms. 
Martin  and  Tom,  both  of  whom  had  irons  on,  tried  it  with- 
out success  at  first;  the  fir  bark  broke  away  where  they 
stuck  the  irons  in  as  soon  as  they  leaned  any  weight  on 
their  feet,  and  the  grip  of  their  arms  wasn’t  enough  to  keep 
them  up ; so,  after  getting  up  three  or  four  feet,  down 
they  came  slithering  to  the  ground,  barking  their  arms  and 
faces.  They  were  furious,  and  East  sat  by  laughing  and 
shouting  at  each  failure,  “Two  to  one  on  the  old  mag- 
pie ! ” 

“We  must  try  a pyramid,”  said  Tom  at  last.  “Now, 
Scud,  you  lazy  rascal,  stick  yourself  against  the  tree  ! ” 

“ I dare  say ! and  have  you  standing  on  my  shoulders 
with  the  irons  on  : what  do  you  think  my  skin’s  made  of  ? ” 
However,  up  he  got,  and  leaned  against  the  tree,  putting 
his  head  down  and  clasping  it  with  his  arms  as  far  as  he 
could.  “ Now  then,  Madman,”  said  Tom,  “ you  next.” 

“ No,  I’m  lighter  than  you ; you  go  next.”  So  Tom  got 
on  East’s  shoulders,  and  grasped  the  tree  above,  and  then 
Martin  scrambled  up  on  Tom’s  shoulders,  amid  the  totter- 
ings  and  groanings  of  the  pyramid,  and,  with  a spring 
which  sent  his  supporters  howling  to  the  ground,  clasped 
the  stem  some  ten  feet  up,  and  remained  clinging.  For  a 
moment  or  two  they  thought  he  couldn’t  get  up,  but  then, 
holding  on  with  arms  and  teeth,  he  worked  first  one  iron, 
then  the  other,  firmly  into  the  bark,  got  another  grip  with 
his  arms,  and  in  another  minute  had  hold  of  the  lowest 
branch. 

“ All’s  up  with  the  old  magpie  now,”  said  East ; and, 
after  a minute’s  rest,  up  went  Martin,  hand  over  hand, 
watched  by  Arthur  with  fearful  eagerness. 

“ Isn’t  it  very  dangerous  ? ” said  he. 

“ Not  a bit,”  answered  Tom  ; “ you  can’t  hurt  if  you 
only  get  good  hand-hold.  Try  every  branch  with  a good 
pull  before  you  trust  it,  and  then  up  you  go.” 


200 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DA  YS. 


Martin  was  now  among  the  small  branches  close  to  the 
nest,  and  away  dashed  the  old  bird,  and  soared  up  above 
the  trees,  watching  the  intruder. 

“ All  right — four  eggs  ! ” shouted  he. 

“ Take  ’em  all ! ” shouted  East ; “ that’ll  be  one  apiece.” 

“ No,  no  ! leave  one,  and  then  she  won’t  care,”  said 
Tom. 

We  boys  had  an  idea  that  birds  couldn’t  count,  and  were 
quite  content  as  long  as  you  left  one  egg.  I hope  it  is  so. 

Martin  carefully  put  one  egg  into  each  of  his  boxes  and 
the  third  into  his  mouth,  the  only  other  place  of  safety, 
and  came  down  like  a lamp-lighter.  All  went  well  till  he 
was  within  ten  feet  of  the  ground,  when,  as  the  trunk  en- 
larged, his  hold  got  less  and  less  firm,  and  at  last  down  he 
came  with  a run,  tumbling  on  to  his  back  on  the  turf,  splut- 
tering and  spitting  out  the  remains  of  the  great  egg,  which 
had  broken  by  the  jar  of  his  fall. 

u Ugh,  ugh — something  to  drink — ugh  ! it  was  addled,” 
spluttered  he,  while  the  wood  rang  again  with  the  merry 
laughter  of  East  and  Tom. 

Then  they  examined  the  prizes,  gathered  up  their  things, 
and  went  off  to  the  brook,  where  Martin  swallowed  huge 
draughts  of  water  to  get  rid  of  the  taste  •,  and  they  visited 
the  sedge-bird’s  nest,  and  from  thence  struck  across  the 
country  in  high  glee,  beating  the  hedges  and  brakes  as 
they  went  along  ; and  Arthur  at  last,  to  his  intense  delight, 
was  allowed  to  climb  a small  hedgerow  oak  for  a magpie's 
nest  with  Tom,  who  kept  all  round  him  like  a mother,  and 
showed  him  where  to  hold  and  how  to  throw  his  weight ; 
and  though  he  was  in  a great  fright,  didn’t  show  it;  and 
was  applauded  by  all  for  his  lissomeness. 

They  crossed  a road  soon  afterward,  and  there  close  to 
them  lay  a heap  or  charming  pebbles. 

u Look  here,”  shouted  East,  “ here’s  luck  ! I’ve  been 
longing  for  some  good  honest  pecking  this  half  hour.  Let’s 
fill  the  bags,  and  have  no  more  of  this  foozling  bird’s- 
nesting.” 

No  one  objected,  so  each  boy  filled  the  fustian  bag  he 
carried  full  of  stones,  they  crossed  into  the  next  field,  Tom 
and  East  taking  one  side  of  the  hedges,  and  the  other  two 
the  other  side.  Noise  enough  they  made  certainly,  but  it 
was  too  early  in  the  season  for  the  young  birds,  and  the 


THE  BIRD-CATCHER. 


201 


old  birds  were  too  strong  on  the  wing  for  our  young 
marksmen,  and  flew  out  of  shot  after  the  first  discharge. 
But  it  was  great  fun,  rushing  along  the  hedgerows,  and 
discharging  stone  after  stone  at  blackbirds  and  chaffinches, 
though  no  result  in  the  shape  of  slaughtered  birds  was  ob- 
tained : and  Arthur  soon  entered  into  it,  and  rushed  to 
head  back  the  birds,  and  shouted,  and  threw,  and  tumbled 
into  ditches  and  over  and  through  hedges,  as  wild  as  the 
Madman  himself. 

Presently  the  party,  in  full  cry  after  an  old  blackbird 
(who  was  evidently  used  to  the  thing  and  enjoyed  the  fun, 
for  he  would  wait  till  they  came  close  to  him  and  then  fly  on 
forty  yards  or  so,  and,  with  an  impudent  flicker  of  his  tail, 
dart  into  the  depths  of  the  quickset),  came  beating  down  a 
high  double  hedge,  two  on  each  side. 

44  There  he  is  again,”  44  Head  him,”  44  Let  drive,”  44  I 
had  him  there,”  44  Take  care  where  you’re  throwing.  Mad- 
man,” the  shouts  might  have  been  heard  a quarter  of  a 
mile  off.  They  were  heard  some  two  hundred  yards  off  by 
a farmer  and  two  of  his  shepherds,  who  were  doctoring 
sheep  in  a fold  in  the  next  field. 

Now,  the  farmer  in  question  rented  a house  and  yard 
situate  at  the  end  of  the  field  in  which  the  young  bird- 
fanciers  had  arrived,  which  house  and  yard  he  didn’t  oc- 
cupy or  keep  any  one  else  in.  Nevertheless,  like  a brain- 
less and  unreasoning  Briton,  he  persisted  in  maintaining 
on  the  premises  a large  stock  of  cocks,  hens,  and  other 
poultry.  Of  course,  all  sorts  of  depredators  visited  the 
place  from  time  to  time:  foxes  and  gipsies  wrought  havoc 
in  the  night ; while  in  the  daytime,  I regret  to  have  to 
confess  that  visits  from  the  Rugby  boj^s,  and  consequent 
disappearances  of  ancient  and  respectable  fowls,  were  not 
unfrequent.  Tom  and  East  had  during  the  period  of  their 
outlawry  visited  the  barn  in  question  for  felonious  purposes, 
and  on  one  occasion  had  conquered  and  slain  a duck  there, 
and  borne  away  the  carcass  triumphantly,  hidden  in  their 
handkerchiefs.  However,  they  were  sickened  of  the 
practice  by  the  trouble  and  anxiety  which  the  wretched 
duck’s  body  caused  them.  They  carried  it  to  Sally  Har- 
ro well’s  in  hopes  of  a good  supper ; but  she,  after  examin- 
ing it,  made  a long  face,  and  refused  to  dress  or  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  it.  Then  they  took  it  into  their  study, 


202 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-BAYS. 


and  began  plucking  it  themselves  ; but  what  to  do  with 
the  feathers — whereto  hide  them? 

“■Good  gracious,  Tom,  what  a lot  of  feathers  a duck 
has  ! ” groaned  East,  holding  a bagful  in  his  hand,  and  look- 
ing disconsolately  at  the  carcass,  not  yet  half  plucked. 

“And  I do  think  he’s  getting  high  too,  already,”  said 
Tom,  smelling  at  him  cautiously,  “ so  we  must  finish  him 
up  soon.” 

“ Yes,  all  very  well  ; but  how  are  we  to  cook  him? 
I’m  sure  I ain’t  going  to  try  it  on  in  the  hall  or  passages  ; 
we  can’t  afford  to  be  roasting  ducks  about,  our  character’s 
too  bad.” 

“ I wish  we  were  rid  of  the  brute,”  said  Tom,  throwing 
him  on  the  table  in  disgust.  And  after  a day  or  two  more 
it  became  clear  that  got  rid  of  he  must  be  ; so  they  packed 
him  and  sealed  him  up  in  brown  paper,  and  put  him  in  the 
cupboard  of  an  unoccupied  study,  where  he  was  found  in 
the  holidays  by  the  matron,  a grewsome  body 

They  had  never  been  duck-hunting  there  since,  but  others 
had,  and  the  bold  yeoman  was  very  sore  on  the  subject, 
and  bent  on  making  an  example  of  the  first  boys  he  could 
catch.  So  he  and  his  shepherds  crouched  behind  the  hur- 
dles, and  watched  the  party,  who  were  approaching  all  un- 
conscious. 

Why  should  that  old  guinea-fowl  be  lying  out  in  the 
hedge  just  at  this  particular  moment  of  all  the  year?  Who 
can  say?  Guinea-fowls  always  are — so  are  all  other  things, 
animals,  and  persons,  requisite  for  getting  one  into  scrapes, 
always  ready  when  any  mischief  can  come  of  them.  At  any 
rate,  just  under  East  s nose  popped  out  the  old  guinea- 
hen,  scuttling  along  and  shrieking,  “Come  back,  come 
back,”  at  the  top  of  her  voice.  Either  of  the  other  three 
might  perhaps  have  withstood  the  temptation,  but  East 
first  lets  drive  the  stone  he  has  in  his  hand  at  her,  and 
then  rushes  to  turn  her  into  the  hedge  again.  He  succeeds, 
and  then  they  are  all  at  it  for  dear  life,  up  and  down  the 
hedge  in  full  cry,  the  “ Come  back,  come  back,”  getting 
shriller  and  fainter  every  minute. 

Meantime,  the  farmer  and  his  men  steal  over  the  hurdles 
and  creep  down  the  hedge  toward  the  scene  of  action.  They 
are  almost  within  a stone’s  throw  of  Martin,  who  is  press- 
ing the  unlucky  chase  hard,  when  Tom  catches  sight  of 


THE  BIRD-CATCHER. 


203 


them,  and  sings  out,  “ Louts,  ’ware  louts,  your  side  ! Mad- 
man, look  ahead  ! ” and  then  catching  hold  of  Arthur,  hur- 
ries him  away  across  the  field  toward  Rugby  as  hard  as 
they  can  tear.  Had  he  been  by  himself,  he  would  have 
stayed  to  see  it  out  with  the  others,  but  now  his  heart 
sinks  and  all  his  pluck  goes.  The  idea  of  being  led  up  to 
the  Doctor  with  Arthur  for  bagging  fowls,  quite  unmans 
and  takes  half  the  run  out  of  him. 

However,  no  boys  are  more  able  to  take  care  of  them- 
selves than  East  and  Martin  ; they  dodge  the  pursuers, 
slip  through  a gap,  and  come  pelting  after  Tom  and  Arthur, 
whom  they  catch  up  in  no  time  ; the  farmer  and  his  men 
are  making  good  running  about  a field  behind.  Tom 
wishes  to  himself  that  they  had  made  off  in  any  other  direc- 
tion, but  now  they  are  all  in  for  it  together,  and  must  see  it 
out.  “You  won’t  leave  the  young  ’un  will  you?”  says 
he  as  they  haul  poor  little  Arthur,  already  losing  wind 
from  the  fright,  through  the  next  hedge.  “Not  we,”  is 
the  answer  from  both.  The  next  hedge  is  a stiff  one  ; the 
pursuers  gain  horribly  on  them,  and  they  only  just  pull 
Arthur  through,  with  two  great  rents  in  his  trousers,  as 
the  foremost  shepherd  comes  up  on  the  other  side.  As 
they  start  into  the  next  field,  they  are  aware  of  two  figures 
walking  down  the  footpath  in  the  middle  of  it,  and  recog- 
nize Holmes  and  Diggs  taking  a constitutional.  Those 
good-natured  fellows  immediately  shout  “ On.”  “ Let’s  go 
to  them  and  surrender,”  pants  Tom. — Agreed. — And  in 
another  minute  the  four  boj-s,  to  the  great  astonishment  of 
those  worthies,  rush  breathless  up  to  Holmes  and  Diggs, 
who  pull  up  to  see  what  is  the  matter ; and  then  the  whole 
is  explained  by  the  appearance  of  the  farmer  and  his  men, 
who  unite  their  forces  and  bear  down  on  the  knot  of  boys. 

There  is  no  time  to  explain,  and  Tom’s  heart  beats  fright- 
fully quick,  as  he  ponders,  “ Will  they  stand  by  us?” 

The  farmer  makes  a rush  at  East  and  collars  him ; and 
that  young  gentleman,  with  unusual  discretion,  instead  of 
kicking  his  shins,  looks  appealingly  at  Holmes  and  stands 
still. 

“ Hullo  there,  not  so  fast,”  says  Holmes,  who  is  bound  to 
stand  up  for  them  till  they  are  proved  in  the  wrong.  “ Now 
what’s  all  this  about  ? ” 

“ I’ve  got  the  young  varmint  at  last,  have  I,”  pants  the 


204 


TOM  BBO  WN*  8 'SCHOOL  BAYS. 

farmer  ; 44  why  they’ve  been  a skulking  about  my  yard  and 
stealing  my  fowls,  that’s  where  ’tis  ; and  if  I doan’t  have 
them  flogged  for  it,  every  one  on  ’em  my  name  ain’t 

Thompson.” 

Holmes  looks  grave,  and  Diggs’s  face  falls.  They  are 
quite  ready  to  fight,  no  boys  in  the  school  more  so ; but 
they  are  praepostors,  and  understand  their  office,  and  can’t 
uphold  unrighteous  causes. 

44  I haven’t  been  near  his  old  barn  this  half,”  cries  East. 
“Nor  I,”  44  Nor  I,”  chime  in  Tom  and  Martin. 

44  Now,  Willum,  didn’t  you  see ’m  there  last  week?” 

44  Ees,  I seen  ’em  sure  enough,”  says  Willum,  grasping  a 
prong  he  carried,  and  preparing  for  action. 

The  boys  deny  stoutly,  and  Willum  is  driven  to  admit 
that,  44  if  it  worn’t  they,  ’twas  chaps  as  like  ’em  as  two 
peas’n  and  44  leastways  lie’ll  swear  he  see’d  them  two  in 
the  yard  last  Martinmas,”  indicating  East  and  Tom. 

Holmes  had  time  to  meditate.  44  Now,  sir,”  says  he  to 
Willum,  44  you  see  you  can’t  remember  what  you  have  seen, 
and  I believe  the  boys.” 

44 1 doan’t  care,”  blusters  the  farmer  ; 44  they  was  arter 
my  fowls  to-day,  that’s  enough  for  I.  Willum,  you  catch 
hold  o’t’  other  chap.  They’ve  been  a sneaking  about  this 
ty  two  hours,  I tells  ’ee,”  shouted  he,  as  Holmes  stands  be- 
tween Martin  and  Willum,  44  and  have  druv  a matter  of  a 
dozen  young  pullets  pretty  nigh  to  death.” 

44  Oh,  there’s  a whacker!”  cried  East;  44  we  haven’t 
been  within  a hundred  yards  of  his  barn;  we  haven’t  been 
up  here  aboveaten  minutes,  and  we’ve  seen  nothing  but  a 
tough  old  guinea-hen,  who  ran  like  a greyhound.” 

44  Indeed,  that’s  all  true,  Holmes,  upon  my  honor,”  added 
Tom  ; 44  we  weren’t  after  his  fowls ; the  guinea-hen  ran 
out  of  the  hedge  under  our  feet,  and  we’ve  seen  nothing 
<Tse.” 

44  Drat  their  talk.  Thee  catch  hold  o’  t’other,  Willum, 
and  come  along  wi  ’un.” 

44  Farmer  Thompson,”  said  Holmes,  warning  off  Willum 
and  the  prong  with  his  stick,  while  Diggs  faced  the  other 
shepherd,  cracking  his  fingers  like  pistol  shots,  44  now 
listen  to  reason — the  boys  haven’t  been  after  your  fowls, 
that’s  plain.” 

44  Tells  ’ee  I see’d  ’em.  Who  be  you,  I should  like  te 
know  ? ” 


THE  BIRD-CATCHER. 


205 


“Never  you  mind,  farmer,”  answered  Holmes.  “ And 
now  I’ll  just  tell  you  what  it  is — you  ought  to  be  ashamed 
of  yourself  for  leaving  all  that  poultry  about,  with  no  one 
to  watch  it,  so  near  the  school.  You  deserve  to  have  it  all 
stolen.  St)  if  you  choose  to  come  up  to  the  Doctor  with 
them,  I shall  go  with  you,  and  tell  him  what  I think  of  it.” 

The  farmer  began  to  take  Holmes  for  a master ; besides 
he  wanted  to  get  back  to  his  flock.  Corporal  punishment 
was  out  of  the  question,  the  odds  were  two  great ; so  he 
began  to  hint  at  paying  for  the  damage.  Arthur  jumped 
at  this,  offering  to  pay  anything,  and  the  farmer  imme- 
diately valued  the  guine-ahen  at  half  a sovereign. 

“ Half  a sovereign  ! ” cried  East,  now  released  from  the 
farmer’s  grip  ; “well,  that  is  a good  one!  the  hen  ain’t 
hurt  a bit,  and  she’s  seven  years  old,  I know,  and  as 
tough  as  whipcord ; she  couldn’t  lay  another  egg  to  save 
her  life.” 

It  was  at  last  settled  that  they  should  pay  the  farmer 
two  shillings,  and  his  man  one  shilling,  and  so  the  matter 
ended,  to  the  unspeakable  relief  of  Tom,  who  hadn’t  been 
able  to  say  a word,  being  sick  at  heart  at  the  idea  of  what 
the  Doctor  would  think  of  him  ; and  now  the  whole  party 
of  boys  marched  off  down  the  foot-path  toward  Rugby. 
Holmes,  who  w^as  one  of  the  best  boys  in  the  school,  began 
to  improve  the  occasion.  “Now,  you  youngsters,”  said  he, 
as  lie  marched  along  in  the  middle  of  them,  “mind  this; 
you’re  very  well  out  of  this  scrape.  Don’t  you  go  near 
Thompson’s  barn  again  ; do  you  hear  ? ” 

Profuse  promises  from  all,  especially  East. 

“ Mind,  I don’t  ask  questions,”  went  on  Mentor,  “ but  I 
rather  think  some  of  you  have  been  there  before  this  after 
his  chickens.  Now,  knocking  over  other  people’s  chickens, 
and  running  off  with  them  is  stealing.  It’s  a nasty  word, 
but  that’s  the  plain  English  of  it.  If  the  chickens  were 
dead  and  lying  in  a shop,  you  wouldn’t  take  them,  I know 
that,  any  more  than  you  would  apples  out  of  Griffith’s 
basket ; but  there’s  no  real  difference  between  chickens 
running  about  and  apples  on  a tree,  and  the  same  articles 
m a shop.  I wish  our  morals  were  sounder  in  such  mat- 
ters. There’s  nothing  so  mischievous  as  these  school 
distinctions,  which  jumble  up  right  and  wrong,  and  justify 
things  i:i  us  for  which  poor  boys  would  be  sent  to  prison.” 


206 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


And  good  old  Holmes  delivered  his  soul  on  the  walk  home 
of  many  wise  sayings,  and  as  the  song  says — 

Gee’d  ’em  a sight  of  good  advice — 

which  same  sermon  sank  into  them  all,  more  or  less,  and 
very  penitent  they  were  for  several  hours.  But  truth 
compels  me  to  admit  that  East  at  any  rate  forgot  it  all  in  a 
week,  but  remembered  the  insult  which  had  been  put  upon 
him  by  Farmer  Thompson,  and  with  the  Tadpole  and 
other  harebrained  youngsters,  committed  a raid  on  the  barn 
soon  afterward,  in  which  they  were  caught  by  the  shep- 
herds and  severely  handled,  besides  having  to  pay  eight 
shillings,  all  the  money  they  had  in  the  world,  to  escape 
being  taken  up  to  the  Doctor. 

Martin  became  a constant  inmate  in  the  joint  study 
from  this  time,  and  Arthur  took  to  him  so  kindly,  that 
Tom  couldn’t  resist  slight  fits  of  jealousy,  which,  however, 
he  managed  to  keep  to  himself.  The  kestrel’s  eggs  had 
not  been  broken,  strange  to  say,  and  formed  the  nucleus 
of  Arthur’s  collection,  at  which  Martin  worked  heart  and 
soul  ; and  introduced  Arthur  to  Howlett  the  bird-fancier, 
and  instructed  him  in  the  rudiments  of  the  art  of  stuffing. 
In  token  of  his  gratitude,  Arthur  allowed  Martin  to  tattoo 
a small  anchor  on  one  of  his  wrists,  which  decoration, 
however,  he  carefully  concealed  from  Tom.  Before  the 
end  of  the  half  year  he  had  trained  into  a bold  climber  and 
good  runner,  and  as  Martin  had  foretold,  knew  twice  as 
much  about  trees,  birds,  flowers,  and  many  other  things  as 
our  good-hearted  and  facetious  young  friend  Harry  East. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  FIGHT. 

Surgebat  Macnevisius 
Et  mox  jactabat  ultro , 

Pugnabo  tud  gratid 

Feroci  hoc  Mactwolro. — Etonian . 

There  is  a certain  sort  of  fellow — we  who  are  used  to 
studying  boys  all  know  him  well  enough — of  whom  you 
can  predicate  with  almost  positive  certainty,  after  he  has 
been  a month  at  school,  that  he  is  sure  to  have  a fight,  and 
with  almost  equal  certainty  that  he  will  have  but  one.  Tom 


THE  FIGHT. 


207 


Brown  was  one  of  these  ; and  as  it  is  our  well-weighed  inten- 
tion to  give  a full,  true,  and  correct  account  of  Tom’s  only 
single  combat  with  a school-fellow  in  the  maimer  of  our 
old  friend  Bell’s  Life,  let  those  young  persons  whose 
stomachs  are  not  strong,  or  who  think  a good  set-to  with 
the  weapons  which  God  has  given  us  all,  an  uncivilized,  un- 
christian, or  ungentlemanly  affair,  just  skip  this  chapter  at 
oi] ce,  for  it  won’t  be  to  their  taste. 

It  was  not  at  all  usual  in  those  days  for  two  school-house 
boys  to  have  a fight.  Of  course  there  were  exceptions, 
when  some  cross-grained,  hard-headed  fellow  came  up  who 
would  never  be  happy  unless  he  was  quarreling  with  his 
nearest  neighbors,  or  when  there  was  some  class-dispute, 
between  the  fifth  form  and  the  fags,  for  instance,  which  re- 
quired blood-letting ; and  a champion  was  picked  out  on 
each  side  tacitly,  who  settled  the  matter  by  a good  hearty 
mill.  But  for  the  most  part  the  constant  use  of  those  surest 
keepers  of  the  peace,  the  boxing  gloves,  kept  the  school- 
house  boys  from  fighting  one  another.  Two  or  three  nights 
in  every  week  the  gloves  were  brought  out,  either  in  the 
hall  or  fifth-form  room  ; and  every  boy  who  was  ever  like- 
ly to  fight  at  all  knew  all  his  neighbors’  prowess  perfectly 
well,  and  could  tell  to  a nicety  what  chance  he  would  have 
in  a stand-up  fight  with  any  other  boy  in  the  house.  But 
of  course  no  such  experience  could  be  gotten  as  regarded 
boys  in  other  houses ; and  as  most  of  the  other  houses  were 
more  or  less  jealous  of  the  school-house,  collisions  were 
frequent. 

After  all,  what  would  life  be  without  fighting,  I should 
like  to  know?  From  the  cradle  to  the  grave,  fighting, 
rightly  understood,  is  the  business,  the  real,  highest,  honest- 
est  business  of  every  son  of  man.  Every  one  who  is  worth 
his  salt  has  his  enemies,  who  must  be  beaten,  be  they  evil 
thoughts  and  habits  in  himself,  or  spiritual  wickedness  in 
high  places,  or  Russians,  or  border  ruffians,  or  Bill,  Tom, 
or  Harry,  who  will  not  let  him  live  his  life  in  quiet  till  he 
has  thrashed  them. 

It  is  no  good  for  Quakers,  or  any  other  body  of  men,  to 
uplift  their  voices  against  fighting.  Human  nature  is  too 
strong  for  them,  and  they  don’t  follow  their  own  precepts. 
Every  soul  of  them  is  doing  his  own  piece  of  fighting, 
somehow  and  somewhere.  The  world  might  be  a better 


08  ±OM  BBO  WJSf  S SCHOOL-DA  TS. 

world  without  fighting,  for  anything  I know,  but  it  wouldn’t 
be  our  world ; and  therefore  I’m  dead  against  crying  peace 
when  there  is  no  peace,  and  isn’t  meant  to  be.  I am  as 
sorry  as  any  man  to  see  folk  fighting  the  wrong  people  and 
the  wrong  things,  but  I’d  a deal  sooner  see  them  doing 
that,  than  that  they  should  have  no  fight  in  them.  So 
having  recorded,  and  being  about  to  record,  my  hero’s 
fights  of  all  sorts,  with  all  sorts  of  enemies,  I shall  now 
proceed  to  give  an  account  of  his  passage-at-arms  with  the 
only  one  of  his  school-fellows  whom  he  ever  had  to  en- 
counter in  this  manner. 

It  was  drawing  toward  the  close  of  Arthur’s  first  half- 
year,  and  the  May  evenings  were  lengthening  out.  Lock- 
ing-up  was  not  till  eight  o’clock,  and  everybody  was 
beginning  to  talk  about  what  he  would  do  in  the  holidays. 
The  shell,  in  which  form  all  our  dramatis  personce  now  are, 
were  reading  among  other  things  the  last  book  of  Homer’s 
44  Iliad,”  and  had  worked  through  it  as  far  as  the  speeches 
of  the  women  over  Hector’s  body.  It  is  a whole  school- 
day,  and  four  or  five  of  the  school-house  boys  (among 
whom  are  Arthur,  Tom,  and  East)  are  preparing  third 
lesson  together.  They  have  finished  the  regulation  forty 
lines,  and  are  for  the  most  part  getting  very  tired,  notwith- 
standing the  exquisite  pathos  of  Helen’s  lamentation. 
And  now  several  long  four-syllabled  words  come  together, 
and  the  boy  with  the  dictionary  strikes  work. 

44  I’m  not  going  to  look  out  any  more  words,”  says  he  ; 
44  we’ve  done  the  quantity.  Ten  to  one  we  shan’t  get  so 
far.  Let’s  go  out  into  the  close.” 

44  Come  along,  boys,”  cried  East,  always  ready  to  leave 
the  grind,  as  he  called  it ; 44  our  old  coach  is  laid  up,  you 
know,  and  we  shall  have  one  of  the  new  masters,  who’s 
sure  to  go  slow  and  let  us  down  easy.” 

So  an  adjournment  to  the  close  was  carried,  nem.  con., 
little  Arthur  not  daring  to  uplift  his  voice  ; but,  being 
deeply  interested  in  what  they  were  reading,  stayed  quietly 
behind,  and  learned  on  for  his  own  pleasure. 

As  East  had  said,  the  regular  master  of  the  form  was 
unwell,  and  they  were  to  be  heard  by  one  of  the  new 
masters,  quite  a young  man,  who  had  only  just  left  the 
university.  Certainly  it  would  be  hard  lines,  if,  by  dawd 
ling  as  much  as  possible  in  coming  in  and  taking  their 


THE  FIGHT. 


209 


places,  entering  into  long-winded  explanations  of  what 
was  the  usual  course  of  the  regular  master  of  the  form,  and 
others  of  the  stock  contrivances  of  boys  for  wasting  time 
in  school,  they  could  not  spin  out  the  lesson  so  that  he 
should  not  work  them  through  more  than  the  forty  lines ; 
as  to  which  quantity  there  was  a perpetual  fight  going  on 
between  the  master  and  his  form,  the  latter  insisting,  and 
enforcing  by  passive  resistance,  that  it  was  the  prescribed 
quantity  of  Homer  for  a shell  lesson,  the  former  that  there 
was  no  fixed  quantity,  but  that  they  must  always  be  ready 
to  go  on  to  fifty  or  sixty  lines  if  there  were  time  within 
the  hour0  However,  notwithstanding  all  their  efforts,  the 
new  master  got  on  horribly  quick  ; he  seemed  to  have  the 
bad  taste  to  be  really  interested  in  the  lesson,  and  to  be 
trying  to  work  them  up  into  something  like  appreciation 
of  it,  giving  them  good  spirited  English  words,  instead  of 
the  wretched  bald  stuff  into  which  they  rendered  poor  old 
Homer  ; and  construing  over  each  piece  himself  to  them, 
after  each  boy,  to  show  them  how  it  should  be  done. 

Now  the  clock  strikes  the  three-quarters  ; there  is  only 
a quarter  of  an  hour  more  ; but  the  forty  lines  are  all  but 
done*  So  the  boys,  one  after  another,  who  are  called  up, 
stick  more  and  more,  and  make  balder  and  ever  more  bald 
work  of  it.  The  poor  young  master  is  pretty  near  beat  by 
this  time,  and  feels  ready  to  knock  his  head  against  the 
wall,  or  his  fingers  against  somebody  else’s  head.  So  he 
gives  up  altogether  the  lower  and  middle  parts  of  the  form, 
and  looks  round  in  despair  at  the  boys  on  the  top  bench, 
to  see  if  there  is  one  out  of  whom  he  can  strike  a spark  or 
two,  and  who  will  be  too  chivalrous  to  murder  the  most 
beautiful  utterances  of  the  most  beautiful  woman  of  the 
old  world*  His  eye  rests  on  Arthur,  and  he  calls  him  up 
to  finish  construing  Helen’s  speech.  Whereupon  all  the 
other  boys  draw  long  breaths,  and  begin  to  stare  about  and 
take  it  easy.  They  are  all  safe  ; Arthur  is  the  head  of 
the  form,  and  sure  to  be  able  to  construe,  and  that  will 
tide  on  safely  till  the  hour  strikes. 

Arthur  proceeds  to  read  out  the  passage  in  Greek  before 
construing  it,  as  the  custom  is.  Tom,  who  isn’t  paying 
much  attention,  is  suddenly  caught  by  the  falter  in  his 
voice  as  he  reads  the  two  lines — 

cXXd  av  t&v  7'  £tt&<t(tl  7rapai(pdjLt£voc  KdrtpvKtc, 

Ey  T ayavoQpoativn  Kai  <Toit  aya-voic  iirescaiv. 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


210 

He  looks  up  at  Arthur.  “ Why,  bless  us,”  thinks  he. 
“ what  can  be  the  matter  with  the  young  ’un  ? He’s  nevei 
going  to  get  floored.  He’s  sure  to  have  learned  to  the 
end.”  Next  moment  he  is  reassured  by  the  spirited  tone 
in  which  Arthur  begins  construing,  and  betakes  himself  to 
drawing  dogs’-heads  in  his  note-book,  while  the  master, 
evidently  enjoying  the  change,  turns  his  back  on  the  middle 
bench  and  stands  before  Arthur,  beating  a sort  of  time  with 
his  hand  and  foot,  and  say,  “Yes,  yes,”  “very  well,”  as 
Arthur  goes  on. 

But  as  he  nears  the  fatal  two  lines,  Tom  catches  that 
falter  and  again  looks  up.  He  sees  that  there  is  something 
the  matter — Arthur  can  hardly  get  on  at  all.  What  can 
it  be  ? 

Suddenly  at  this  point  Arthur  breaks  down  altogether, 
and  fairly  bursts  out  crying,  and  dashes  the  cuff  of  his 
jacket  across  his  eyes,  blushing  up  to  the  roots  of  his  hair, 
and  feeling  as  if  he  should  like  to  go  down  suddenly 
through  the  floor.  The  whole  form  are  taken  aback  ; most 
of  them  stare  stupidly  at  him,  while  those  who  are  gifted 
with  presence  of  mind  find  their  places  and  look  steadily 
at  their  books,  in  hopes  of  not  catching  the  master’s  eye 
and  getting  called  up  in  Arthur’s  place. 

The  master  looks  puzzled  fora  moment,  and  then  seeing, 
as  the  fact  is,  that  the  boy  is  really  affected  to  tears  by  the 
most  touching  thing  in  Homer,  perhaps  in  all  profane 
poetry  put  together,  steps  up  to  him  and  lays  his  hand 
kindly  on  his  shoulder,  saying,  “ Never  mind,  my  little 
man,  you’ve  construed  very  well.  Stop  a minute,  there’s 
no  hurry.” 

Now,  as  luck  would  have  it,  there  sat  next  above  Tom 
that  day,  in  the  middle  bench  of  the  form,  a big  boy,  by 
name  Williams,  generally  supposed  to  be  the  cock  of  the 
shell,  therefore  of  all  the  school  below  the  fifths.  The 
small  boys,  .who  are  great  speculators  on  the  prowess  of 
their  elders,  used  to  hold  forth  to  one  another  about  Wil- 
liam’s great  strength,  and  to  discuss  whether  East  or 
Brown  would  take  a licking  from  him.  He  was  called 
Slogger  Williams,  from  the  force  with  which  it  was  suppos- 
ed he  could  hit.  In  the  main,  he  was  a rough  good- 
natured  fellow  enough,  but  very  much  alive  to  his  own 
dignity.  He  reckoned  himself  the  king  of  the  form,  and 


THE  FIGHT. 


211 


( 

kept  up  his  position  with  a strong  hand,  especially  in  the 
matter  of  forcing  boys  not  to  construe  more  than  the  legit- 
imate forty  lines.  He  had  already  grunted  and  grumbled 
to  himself,  when  Arthur  went  on  reading  beyond  the  forty 
lines.  But  now  that  he  had  broken  down  just  in  the 
middle  of  all  the  long  words,  the  Slogger’s  wrath  was  fairly 
roused. 

44  Sneaking  little  brute,”  muttered  he,  regardless  of 
prudence,  “ clapping  on  the  waterworks  just  in  the  hardest 
place ; see  if  I don’t  punch  his  head  after  fourth  lesson.” 

“ Whose  ? ” said  Tom,  to  whom  the  remark  seemed  to 
be  addressed. 

64  Why,  that  little  sneak  Arthur’s,”  replied  Williams. 

44  No,  you  shan’t,”  said  Tom. 

44  Hullo ! ” exclaimed  Williams,  looking  at  Tom  with 
great  surprise  for  a moment,  and  then  giving  him  a sudden 
dig.  in  the  ribs  with  his  elbow,  which  sent  Tom’s  books 
flying  on  the  door,  and  called  the  attention  of  the  master, 
who  turned  suddenly  round,  and  seeing  the  state  of  things, 
said — 

44  Williams  go  down  three  places,  and  then  go  on.” 

The  Slogger  found  his  legs  very  slowly,  and  proceeded 
to  go  below  Tom  and  two  other  boys  with  great  disgust, 
and  then,  turning  round  and  facing  the  master,  said,  44  I 
haven’t  learned  any  more,  sir;  our  lesson  is  only  forty 
lines.” 

44  Is  that  so  ? ” said  the  master,  appealing  generally  to 
the  top  bench.  No  answer. 

44  Who  is  the  head  boy  of  the  form  ? ” said  he,  waxing 
wroth. 

44  Arthur,  sir,”  answered  three  or  four  boys,  indicating 
our  friend. 

44  Oh,  your  name’s  Arthur.  Well  now,  what  is  the 
length  of  your  regular  lesson  ? ” 

Arthur  hesitated  a moment  and  then  said,  44  We  call  it 
only  forty  lines,  sir.” 

44  How  do  you  mean,  you  call  it  ?” 

44  Well,  sir,  Mr.  Graham  says  we  ain’t  to  stop  there, 
when  there’s  time  to  construe  more.” 

44  I understand,”  said  the  master.  44  Williams,  go  down 
three  more  places,  and  write  me  out  the  lesson  in  Greek 
and  English.  And  now,  Arthur,  finish  construing.” 


212 


TOM  BBOWNS  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


“ Oh  ! would  I be  in  Arthur’s  shoes  after  fourth  lesson?  ” 
said  the  little  boys  to  one  another ; but  Arthur  finishe  d 
Helen’s  speech  without  any  further  catastrophe,  and  thtf 
clock  struck  four,  which  ended  third  lesson. 

Another  hour  was  occupied  in  preparing  and  saying 
fourth  lesson,  during  which  Williams  was  bottling  up  his 
wrath ; and  when  five  struck,  and  the  lessons  for  the  day 
were  over,  he  prepared  to  take  summary  vengeance  on  the 
innocent  cause  of  his  misfortune. 

Tom  was  detained  in  school  a few  minutes  after  the  rest, 
and  on  coming  out  into  the  quadrangle,  the  first  thing  he 
saw  was  a small  ring  of  boys,  applauding  Williams,  who 
was  holding  Arthur  by  the  collar. 

“ There,  you  young  sneak,”  said  he,  giving  Arthur  a 
cuff  on  the  head  with  his  other  hand,  u what  made  you  say 
that  ” — 

“ Hullo ! ” said  Tom,  shouldering  into  the  crowd.  “you 
drop  that,  Williams  ; you  shan’t  touch  him.” 

“Who’ll  stop  me?”  said  the  Slogger,  raising  his  hand 
again. 

“ I,”  said  Tom  ; and  suiting  the  action  to  the  word, 
struck  the  arm  which  held  Arthur’s  arm  so  sharply,  that 
the  Slogger  dropped  it  with  a start,  and  turned  the  full 
current  of  his  wrath  on  Tom. 

“Will  you  fight?” 

“ Yes,  of  course.” 

“ Huzza,  there’s  going  to  be  a fight  between  Slogger 
Williams  and  Tom  Brown.” 

The  news  ran  like  wild-fire  about,  and  many  boys  who 
were  on  their  way  to  tea  at  their  several  houses  turned 
back,  and  sought  the  back  of  the  chapel,  where  the  fights 
come  off. 

“ Just  run  and  tell  East  to  come  and  back  me,”  said 
Tom  to  a small  school-house  boy,  who  was  off  like  a rocket 
to  Harrowell’s,  just  stopping  for  a moment  to  poke  his 
head  into  the  school-house  hall,  where  the  lower  boys  were 
already  at  tea,  and  sing  out,  “ Fight  ! Tom  Brown  and 
Slogger  Williams.” 

Up  start  half  the  boys  at  once,  leaving  bread,  eggs,  butter, 
sprats,  and  all  the  rest  to  take  care  of  themselves.  The 
greater  part  of  the  remainder  follow  in  a minute,  after 
swallowing  their  tea,  carrying  their  food  in  their  hands  to 


THE  FIGHT . 


213 


consume  as  they  go.  Three  or  four  only  remain,  who  steal 
the  butter  of  the  more  impetuous,  and  make  to  themselves 
an  unctuous  feast. 

In  another  minute  East  and  Martin  tear  through  the 
quadrangle  carrying  a sponge,  .and  arrive  at  the  scene  of 
action  just  as  the  combatants  are  beginning  to  strip. 

Tom  felt  he  had  got  his  work  cut  out  for  him,  as  he 
stripped  off  his  jacket,  waistcoat,  and  braces.  East  tied  his 
handkerchief  round  his  waist,  and  rolled  up  his  shirt- 
sleeves for  him.  u Now,  old  boy,  don’t  you  open  your  mouth 
to  say  a word,  or  try  to  help  yourself  a bit,  we’ll  do  all 
that ; you  keep  all  your  breath  and  strength  for  the  Slogger.” 
Martin  meanwhile  folded  the  clothes,  and  put  them  under 
the  chapel  rails ; and  now  Tom,  with  East  to  handle  him 
and  Martin  to  give  him  a knee,  steps  out  on  the  turf,  and 
is  ready  for  all  that  may  come  : and  here  is  the  Slogger  too, 
all  stripped,  and  thirsting  for  the  fray. 

It  doesn’t  look  a fair  match  at  first  glance  : Williams  is 
nearly  two  inches  taller,  and  probably  a long  year  older 
than  his  opponent,  and  he  is  very  strongly  made  about  the 
arms  and  shoulders  ; “ peels  well,”  as  the  little  knot  of  big 
fifth-form  boys,  the  amateurs,  say ; who  stand  outside  the 
ring  of  little  boys,  looking  complacently  on,  but  taking  no 
active  part  in  the  proceedings.  But  down  below  he  is  not 
so  good  by  any  means ; no  spring  from  the  loins,  and 
feeblish,  not  to  say  shipwrecky,  about  the  knees.  Tom,  on 
the  contrary,  though  not  half  so  strong  in  the  arms,  is  good 
all  over,  straight,  hard,  and  springy  from  neck  to  ankle, 
better  perhaps  in  his  legs  than  anywhere.  Besides,  you  can 
see  by  the  clear  white  of  his  eye  and  fresh  bright  look  of 
his  skin,  that  he  is  in  tip-top  training,  able  to  do  all  he 
knows,  while  the  Slogger  looks  rather  sodden,  as  if  he  didn’t 
take  much  exercise  and  ate  too  much  tuck.  The  time-keeper 
is  chosen, a large  ring  made,  and  the  two  stand  up  opposite 
one  another  for  a moment,  giving  us  time  just  to  make  our 
little  observations. 

“If  Tom’ll  only  condescend  to  fight  with  his  head  and 
heels,”  as  East  mutters  to  Martin,  “ we  shall  do.” 

But  seemingly  he  won’t,  for  there  he  goes  in,  making 
play  with  both  hands.  Hard  all,  is  the  word;  the  two  stand 
to  one  another  like  men  ; rally  follows  rally  in  quick  suc- 
cession, each  fighting  as  if  he  thought  to  finish  the  whole 


214 


TOM  BROWN’S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


thing  out  of  hand.  “Can’t  last  at  this  rate,”  say  the 
knowing  ones,  while  the  partisans  of  each  make  the  air  ring 
with  their  shouts  and  counter-shouts  of  encouragement, 
approval,  and  defiance. 

“ Take  it  easy,  take  it  easy — keep  away,  let  him  come 
after  you,”  implores  East,  as  he  wipes  Tom’s  face  after  the 
first  round  with  wet  sponge,  while  he  sits  back  on  Martin’s 
knee,  supported  by  the  Madman’s  long  arms,  which  tremble 
a little  from  excitement. 

“ Time’s  up,”  calls  the  time-keeper. 

“ There  he  goes  again,  hang  it  all ! ” growls  East,  as  his 
man  is  at  it  again  as  hard  as  ever.  A very  severe  round 
follows,  in  which  Tom  gets  out  and  out  the  worst  of  it,  and 
is  at  last  hit  clean  off  his  legs,  and  deposited  on  the  grass 
by  a right-hander  from  the  Slogger. 

Loud  shouts  rise  from  the  boys  of  Slogger’s  house,  and 
the  school-house  are  silent  and  vicious,  ready  to  pick 
quarrels  anywhere. 

“ Two  to  one  in  half-crowns  on  the  big  ’un,”  says  Rattle, 
one  of  the  amateurs,  a tall  fellow,  in  thunder-and-lightning 
waistcoat,  and  puffy,  good-natured  face. 

“ Done  ! ” sajrs  Groove,  another  amateur  of  quieter  look, 
taking  out  his  note-book  to  enter  it — for  our  friend  Rattle 
sometimes  forgets  these  little  things. 

Meantime  East  is  freshening  up  Tom  with  the  sponges 
for  next  round,  and  has  set  two  other  boys  to  rub  his  hands. 

“ Tom,  old  boy,”  whispers  he,  “this  may  be  fun  for  you, 
but  it’s  death  to  me.  He’ll  hit  all  the  fight  out  of  you  in 
another  five  minutes,  and  then  I shall  go  and  drown  myself 
in  the  island  ditch.  Feint  him — use  your  legs  ! — draw  him 
about ! he’ll  lose  his  wind  then  in  no  time,  and  you  can  go 
into  him.  Hit  at  his  body  too  ; we’ll  take  care  of  his  front- 
ispiece by  and  by.” 

Tom  felt  the  wisdom  of  the  counsel,  and  saw  already  that 
he  couldn’t  go  in  and  finish  the  Slogger  off  at  mere  ham- 
mer and  tongs,  so  changed  his  tactics  completely  in  the 
third  round.  He  now  fights  cautious,  getting  away  from 
and  parrying  the  Slogger’s  lunging  hits,  instead  of  trying 
to  counter,  and  leading  his  enemy  a dance  all  round  the 
ring  after  him.  “ He’s  funking  ; go  in,  Williams,”  “ Catch 
him  up,”  “ Finish  him  off,”  scream  the  small  boys  of  the 
Slogger  party. 


THE  FIGHT . 


215 


“ Just  what  we  want,”  thinks  East,  chuckling  to  himself, 
as  he  sees  Williams,  excited  by  these  shouts,  and  thinking 
the  game  in  his  own  hands,  blowing  himself  in  his  exertions 
to  get  to  close  quarters  again,  while  Tom  is  keeping  away 
with  perfect  ease. 

They  quarter  over  the  ground  again  and  again,  Tom 
always  on  the  defensive. 

The  Slogger  pulls  up  at  last  for  a moment,  fairly  blown. 

“Now  then,  Tom,”  sings  out  East,  dancing  with  delight. 
Tom  goes  in  in  a twinkling,  and  hits  two  heavy  body  blows, 
and  gets  away  again  before  the  Slogger  can  catch  his  wind ; 
which  when  he  does  he  rushes  with  blind  fury  at  Tom,  and 
being  skillfully  parried  and  avoided,  over-reaches  himself 
and  falls  on  his  face,  amid  terrific  cheers  from  the  school- 
house  boys. 

“ Double  your  two  to  one  ? ” says  Groove  to  Rattle,  note- 
book in  hand. 

“ Stop  a bit,”  says  that  hero,  looking  uncomfortably  at 
Williams,  who  is  puffing  away  on  his  second’s  knee,  winded 
enough,  but  little  the  worse  in  any  other  way. 

After  another  round  the  Slogger  too  seems  to  see  that 
he  can’t  go  in  and  win  right  off,  and  has  met  his  match  or 
thereabouts.  So  he  too  begins  to  use  his  head,  and  tries  to 
make  Tom  lose  patience  and  come  in  before  his  time.  And 
so  the  fight  sways  on,  now  one,  and  now  the  other,  getting 
a trifling  pull. 

Tom’s  face  begins  to  look  very  one-sided — there  are 
little  queer  bumps  on  his  forehead,  and  his  mouth  is 
bleeding ; but  East  keeps  the  wet  sponge  going  so  scientifi- 
cally, that  he  comes  up  looking  as  fresh  and  bright  as 
ever.  Williams  is  only  slightly  marked  in  the  face,  but 
by  the  nervous  movement  of  his  elbows  you  can  see  that 
Tom’s  body-blows  are  telling.  In  fact,  half  the  vice  of  the 
Slogger’s  hitting  is  neutralized,  for  he  daren’t  lunge  out 
freely  for  fear  of  exposing  his  sides.  It  is  too  interesting 
by  this  time  for  much  shouting,  and  the  whole  ring  is  very 
quiet. 

“All  right,  Tommy,”  whispers  East;  “hold  on’s  the 
horse  that’s  to  win.  We’ve  got  the  last.  Keep  your  head, 
old  boy.” 

But  where  is  Arthur  all  this  time  ? Words  cannot  paint 
the  poor  little  fellow’s  distress.  He  couldn’t  muster  cour- 


216 


TOM  BROWN  S SCHOOL-DAYS. 


age  to  come  up  to  the  ring,  but  wandered  up  and  down 
from  the  great  fives’-court  to  the  corner  of  the  chapel  rails. 
Now  trying  to  make  up  his  mind  to  throw  himself  between 
them  and  try  to  stop  them ; then  thinking  of  running  in 
and  telling  his  friend  Mary,  who  he  knew  would  instantly 
report  to  the  Doctor.  The  stories  he  had  heard  of  men 
being  killed  in  prize-fights  rose  up  horribly  before  him. 

Once  only,  when  the  shouts  of  “Well  done,  Brown  ! ” 
“Huzza  for  the  school-house  ! ” rose  higher  than  ever,  he 
ventured  up  to  the  ring,  thinking  the  victory  was  won. 
Catching  sight  of  Tom’s  face  in  the  state  I have  described, 
all  fear  of  consequences  vanishing  out  of  his  mind,  he 
rushed  straight  off  to  the  matron’s  room,  beseeching  her 
to  get  the  fight  stopped,  or  he  should  die. 

But  it’s  time  for  us  to  get  back  to  the  close.  What  is 
this  fierce  tumult  and  confusion?  The  ring  is  broken,  and 
high  and  angry  words  are  being  bandied  about ; “ It’s  all 
fair,” — “ It  isn’t,” — “No  hugging;”  the  fight  is  stopped. 
The  combatants,  however,  sit  there  quietly,  tended  by 
their  seconds,  while  their  adherents  wrangle  in  the  middle. 
East  can’t  help  shouting  challenges  to  two  or  three  of  the 
other  side,  though  he  never  leaves  Tom  for  a moment,  and 
plies  the  sponges  as  fast  as  ever. 

The  fact  is,  that  at  the  end  of  the  last  round,  Tom  seeing 
a good  opening,  had  closed  with  his  opponent,  and  after  a 
moment’s  struggle  had  thrown  him  heavily,  by  the  help  of 
the  fall  he  had  learned  from  his  village  rival  in  the  vale  of 
White  Horse.  Williams  hadn’t  the  ghost  of  a chance  with 
Tom  at  wrestling ; and  the  conviction  broke  at  once  on 
the  Slogger  faction,  that  if  this  were  allowed  their  man 
must  be  licked.  There  was  a strong  feeling  in  the  school 
against  catching  hold  and  throwing,  though  it  was  gener- 
ally ruled  all  fair  within  certain  limits ; so  the  ring  was 
broken  and  the  fight  stopped. 

The  school-house  are  over-ruled — the  fight  is  on  again, 
but  there  is  to  be  no  throwing ; and  East  in  high  wrath 
threatens  to  take  his  man  away  after  next  round  (which 
he  don’t  mean  to  do,  by  the  way),  when  suddenly  young 
Brooke  comes  through  the  small  gate  at  the  end  of  the 
chapel.  The  school-house  faction  rush  to  him  “Oh, 
hurrah  ! now  we  shall  get  fair  play.” 

“Please,  Brooke,  come  up,  they  won’t  let  Tom  Brown 
throw  him/’ 


THE  FIGHT. 


217 


“ Throw  whom?  ” says  Brooke,  coming  up  to  the  ring. 
“ Oh ! Williams,  I see.  Nonsense ! Of  course  he  may 
throw  him  if  he  catches  him  fairly  above  the  waist.” 

Now,  young  Brooke,  you’re  in  the  sixth,  you  know,  and 
you  ought  to  stop  all  fights.  He  looks  hard  at  both  boys. 
44  Anything  wrong,”  says  he  to  East,  nodding  at  Tom. 

44  Not  a bit.” 

44  Not  beat  at  all?  ” 

44  Bless  you,  no  ! heaps  of  fight  in  him.  Ain’t  there, 
Tom  ? ” 

Tom  looks  at  Brooke  and  grins. 

44  How’s  he  ? ” nodding  at  Williams. 

44  So,  so  ; rather  done,  I think,  since  his  last  fall.  He 
won’t  stand  above  two  more.” 

44  Time’s  up  ! ” the  boys  rise  again  and  face  one  another. 
Brooke  can’t  find  it  in  his  heart  to  stop  them  just  yet,  so 
the  round  goes  on,  the  Slogger  waiting  for  Tom,  and  re- 
serving all  his  strength  to  hit  him  out  should  he  come  in 
for  the  wrestling  dodge  again,  for  he  feels  that  that  must 
be  stopped,  or  his  sponge  will  soon  go  up  in  the  air. 

And  now  another  new-comer  appears  on  the  field,  to 
wit,  the  under-porter,  with  his  long  brush  and  great  wooden 
receptacle  for  dust  under  his  arm.  He  has  been  sweeping 
out  the  schools. 

44 You’d  better  stop,  gentlemen,”  he  says;  44 the  Doctor 
knows  that  Brown’s  fightings — he’ll  be  out  in  a minute.” 

44  You  go  to  Bath,  Bill,”  is  all  that  that  excellent  servi- 
tor gets  by  his  advice.  And  being  a man  of  his  hands, 
and  a stanch  upholder  of  the  school-house,  can’t  help 
stopping  to  look  on  for  a bit,  and  see  Tom  Brown,  their 
pet  craftsman,  fight  a round. 

It  is  grim  earnest  now,  and  no  mistake.  Both  boys  feel 
this,  and  summon  every  power  of  head,  hand,  and  eye  to 
their  aid.  A piece  of  luck  on  either  side,  a foot  slipping, 
a blow  getting  well  home,  or  another  fall,  may  decide  it. 
Tom  works  slowly  round  for  an  opening  ; he  has  all  the 
legs,  and  can  choose  his  own  time  : the  Slogger  waits  for 
the  attack,  and  hopes  to  finish  it  by  some  heavy  right- 
handed  blow.  As  they  quarter  slowly  over  the  ground, 
the  evening  sun  comes  out  from  behind,  a cloud  and  falls 
full  on  Williams’s  face.  Tom  darts  in;  the  heavy  right- 
hand  is  delivered,  but  only  grazes  his  head.  A short  rally 


218 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DA  YS 


at  close  quarters,  and  they  clQse  ; in  another  moment  tin 
Slogger  is  thrown  again  heavily  for  the  third  time. 

“I’ll  give  you  three  to  two  on  the  little  one  in  half- 
crowns,”  said  Groove  to  Rattle. 

“ No  thank  ee,”  answers  the  other,  diving  his  hands 
further  into  his  coat-tails. 

Just  at  this  stage  of  the  proceedings,  the  door  of  the 
turret  which  leads  to  the  Doctor’s  library  suddenly  opens, 
and  he  steps  into  the  close,  and  makes  straight  for  the 
ring,  in  which  Brown  and  the  Slogger  are  both  seated 
on  their  seconds’  knees  for  the  last  time. 

“ The  Doctor ! the  Doctor ! ” shouts  some  small  boy 
who  catches  sight  of  him,  and  the  ring  melts  away  in  a 
few  seconds,  the  small  boys  tearing  off,  Tom  collaring 
his  jacket  and  waistcoat  and  slipping  through  the  little 
gate  by  the  chapel,  and  round  the  corner  to  Harrowell’s 
with  Ins  backers,  as  lively  as  need  be  ; Williams  and  his 
backers  making  off  not  quite  so  fast  across  the  close ; 
Groove,  Rattle,  and  the  other  bigger  fellows  trying  to  com- 
bine dignity  and  prudence  in  a comical  manner,  and 
walking  off  fast  enough,  they  hope,  not  to  be  recognized, 
and  not  fast  enough  to  look  like  running  away. 

Young  Brooke  alone  remains  on  the  ground  by  the  time 
the  Doctor  gets  there,  and  touches  his  hat,  not  without 
a slight  inward  qualm. 

“ Hah  ! Brooke.  I am  surprised  to  see  you  here.  Don’t 
you  know  that  I expect  the  sixth  to  stop  fighting  ? ” 

Brooke  felt  much  more  uncomfortable  than  he  had  expect- 
ed, but  he  was  rather  a favorite  with  the  Doctor  for  his 
openness  and  plainness  of  speech;  so  blurted  out,  as  lie 
walked  by  the  Doctor’s  side,  who  had  already  turned 
back — 

“ Yes,  sir;  generally.  But  I thought  you  wished  us  to 
exercise  a discretion  in  the  matter  too — not  to  interfere 
too  soon.” 

“ But  they  have  been  fighting  this  half-hour  and  more,” 
said  the  Doctor. 

“Yes,  sir ; but  neither  was  hurt.  And  they’re  the  sore 
of  boys  who’ll  be  all  the  better  friends  now,  which  they 
wouldn’t  have  been  if  they  had  been  stopped  any  earlier- 
before  it  was  so  equal,” 

“ Who  was  fighting  with  Brown  ? ” said  the  Doctor, 


THE  FIGHT . 


21J 


“ Williams,  sir,  of  Thompson’s.  He  is  bigger  than 
Brown,  and  had  the  best  of  it  at  first,  but  not  when  you 
came  up,  sir.  There’s  a good  deal  of  jealousy  between 
our  house  and  Thompson’s,  and  there  would  have  been 
more  fights  if  this  hadn’t  been  let  go  on,  or  if  either  or 
them  had  had  much  the  worst  of  it.” 

“ Well,  but,  Brooke,”  said  the  Doctor,  “ doesn’t  that  look 
a little  as  if  you  exercised  your  discretion  by  only  stopping 
a fight  when  the  school-house  boy  is  getting  the  worst  of 
it?” 

Brooke,  it  must  be  confessed,  felt  rather  graveled. 

“ Remember,”  added  the  Doctor,  as  he  stopped  at  the 
turret-door,  “ This  fight  is  not  to  go  on — you’ll  see  to 
that.  And  I expect  you  to  stop  all  fights  in  future  at 
cnce.” 

“Very  well,  sir,”  said  young  Brooke,  touching  his  hat, 
and  not  sorry  to  see  the  turret-door  close  behind  the 
Doctor’s  back. 

Meantime  Tom  and  the  stanchest  of  his  adherents  had 
reached  Harro well’s,  and  Sally  was  bustling  about  to  get 
them  a late  tea,  while  Stumps  had  been  sent  off  to  Tew 
the  butcher,  to  get  a piece  of  raw  beef  for  Tom’s  eye, 
which  was  to  be  healed  off-hand,  so  that  he  might  show 
well  in  the  morning.  He  was  not  a bit  the  worse  except 
a slight  difficulty  in  his  vision,  a singing  in  his  ears,  and  a 
sprained  thumb,  which  he  kept  in  a cold-water  bandage, 
while  he  drank  lots  of  tea,  and  listened  to  the  Babel  of 
voices  talking  and  speculating  of  nothing  but  the  fight, 
and  how  Williams  would  have  given  in  after  another  fall 
(which  he  didn’t  in  the  least  believe),  and  how  on  earth 
the  Doctor  could  have  got  to  know  of  it — such  bad  luck  ! 
He  couldn’t  help  thinking  to  himself  that  he  was  glad  he 
hadn’t  won ; he  liked  it  better  as  it  was,  and  felt  very 
friendly  to  the  Slogger.  And  then  poor  little  Arthur 
crept  in  and  sat  down  quietly  near  him,  and  kept  looking 
at  him  and  the  raw  beef  with  such  plaintive  looks,  that 
Tom  at  last  burst  out  laughing. 

u Don’t  make  such  eyes,  young  ‘un,”  said  he,  “ there’s 
nothing  the  matter.” 

“ Oh,  but  Tom,  are  you  much  hurt?  I can’t  bear  think- 
ing it  was  all  for  me.” 

“ Not  a bit  of  it,  don’t  flatter  yourself.  We  were 
to  have  had  it  out  sooner  or  later.” 


sure 


220 


FEVER  IN  THE  SCHOOL . 


Well,  but  you  won’t  go  on  will  j^ou?  You’ll  promise 
me  you  won’t  go  on?  ” 

“ Can’t  tell  about  that  — all  depends  on  the  houses. 
We’re  in  the  hands  of  our  countrymen,  you  know.  Must 
fight  for  the  school-house  flag,  if  so  be.” 

However,  the  lovers  of  the  science  were  doomed  to  dis- 
appointment this  time,  Directly  after  locking-up  one  of 
the  night  fags  knocked  at  Tom’s  door. 

“ Brown,  young  Brooke  wants  you  in  the  sixth-form 
room.” 

Up  went  Tom  to  the  summons,  and  found  the  magnates 
sitting  at  their  supper. 

“Well,  Brown,”  said  young  Brooke,  nodding  to  him, 
“ how  do  you  feel  ? ” 

“ Oh,  very  well,  thank  you,  only  I’ve  sprained  my  thumb, 
I think.” 

“ Sure  to  do  that  in  a fight.  Well,  you  hadn’t  the  worst 
of  it,  I could  see.  Where  did  you  learn  that  throw?” 

“ Down  in  the  country,  when  I was  a boy.” 

“Hullo!  why,  what  are  you  now?  Well,  never  mind, 
jrou’re  a plucky  fellow.  Sit  down  and  have  some  supper.” 

Tom  obeyed,  by  no  means  loath.  And  the  fifth-form 
boy  next  him  filled  him  a tumbler  of  bottled  beer,  and  he 
ate  and  drank,  listening  to  the  pleasant  talk,  and  wondering 
how  soon  he  should  be  in  the  fifth  and  one  of  that  much- 
envied  society. 

As  he  got  up  to  leave,  Brooke  said,  “ You  must  shake 
hands  to-morrow  morning ; I shall  come  and  see  that  done 
after  first  lesson.” 

And  so  he  did.  And  Tom  and  the  Slogger  shook  hands 
with  great  satisfaction  and  mutual  respect.  And  for  the 
next  year  or  two,  whenever  fights  were  being  talked  of,  the 
small  boys  who  had  been  present  shook  their  heads  wisely, 
saying,  u Ah  ! but  you  should  just  have  seen  the  fight  be- 
tween Slogger  Williams  and  Tom  Brown  ! ” 

And  now,  boys  all,  three  words  before  we  quit  the  sub- 
ject. I have  put  in  this  chapter  on  fighting  of  malice  pre- 
pense, partly  because  I want  to  give  jrou  a true  picture  of 
what  every-day  school  life  was  in  my  time,  and  not  a kid- 
glove  and  go-to-meeting-coat  picture  ; and  partly  because 
of  the  cant  and  twaddle  that’s  talked  of  boxing  and  fight- 
ing with  fists  now-a-days.  Even  Thackeray  has  given  in 


FEVER  IN  THE  SCHOOL. 


221 


to  it ; and  only  a few  weeks  ago  there  was  some  rampant 
stuff  in  the  Times  on  the  subject,  in  an  article  on  field 
sports. 

Boys  will  quarrel,  and  when  they  quarrel  will  some- 
times, fight.  Fighting  with  fists  is  the  natural  and  English 
way  for  English  boys  to  settle  their  quarrels.  What  sub- 
stitute for  it  is  there,  or  ever  was  there,  among  any  nation 
under  the  sun  ? What  would  you  like  to  see  take  its 
place  ? 

Learn  to  box,  then,  as  you  learn  to  play  cricket  and  foot- 
ball. Not  one  of  you  will  be  the  worse,  but  very  much  the 
better  for  learning  to  box  well.  Should  you  never  have  to 
use  it  in  earnest,  there’s  no  exercise  in  the  world  so  good 
for  the  temper,  and  for  the  muscles  of  the  back  and  legs. 

As  to  fighting,  keep  out  of  it  if  you  can,  by  all  means. 
When  the  time  comes,  if  it  ever  should,  that  you  have  to 
say  u Yes  ” or  “ No  ” to  a challenge  to  fight,  say  “ No  ” if 
you  can — only  take  care  you  make  it  clear  to  yourself  why 
you  say  “ No.”  It’s  a proof  of  the  highest  courage,  if  done 
from  true  Christian  motives.  It’s  quite  right  and  justifi- 
able, if  done  from  a simple  aversion  to  physical  pain  and 
danger.  But  don’t  say  “ No  ” because  you  fear  a licking, 
and  say  or  think  it’s  because  you  fear  God,  for  that’s 
neither  Christian  nor  honest.  And  if  you  do  fight,  fight  it 
out;  and  don’t  give  in  while  you  can  stand  and  see. 


CHAPTER  YI. 

FEVER  IK  THE  SCHOOL, 

This  our  hope  for  all  that’s  mortal, 

And  we  too  shall  burst  the  bond  ; 

Death  keeps  watch  beside  the  portal, 

But  ’tis  life  that  dwells  beyond. 

J ohn  Sterling* 

Two  years  have  passed  since  the  events  recorded  in  the 
last  chapter,  and  the  end  of  the  summer  half-year  is  again 
drawing  on.  Martin  has  left  and  gone  on  a cruise  in  the 
South  Pacific,  in  one  of  his  uncle’s  ships  ; the  old  magpie, 
as  disreputable  as  ever,  his  last  bequest  to  Arthur,  lives  in 
the  joint  study.  Arthur  is  nearly  sixteen,  and  is  at  the 


222  TOM  BLOWN9  S SCHOOL-BAYS. 

head  of  the  twenty,  having  gone  up  the  school  at  the  rate 
of  a form  a half-year.  East  and  Tom  have  been  much  more 
deliberate  in  their  progress,  and  are  only  a little  way  up 
the  fifth  form.  Great  strapping  boys  they  are,  but  still 
thorough  boys,  filling  about  the  same  place  in  the  house 
that  young  Brooke  filled  when  they  were  new  boys,  and 
much  the  same  sort  of  fellows.  Constant  intercourse  with 
Arthur  has  done  much  for  both  of  them,  especially  for  Tom  ; 
but  much  remains  yet  to  be  done,  if  they  are  to  get  all  the 
good  out  of  Rugby  which  is  to  be  got  there  in  these  times. 
Arthur  is  still  frail  and  delicate,  with  more  spirit  than  body ; 
but,  thanks  to  his  intimacy  with  them  and  Martin,  has 
learned  to  swim,  and  run,  and  play  cricket,  and  has  never 
hurt  himself  by  too  much  reading. 

One  evening  as  they  were  all  sitting  down  to  supper  in 
the  fifth-form  room,  some  one  started  a report  that  a fever 
had  broken  out  at  one  of  the  boarding-houses  ; 44  they  say.” 
he  added,  44  that  Thompson  is  very  ill,  and  that  Dr.  Robert- 
son has  been  sent  for  from  Northampton.” 

44  Then  we  shall  all  be  sent  home,”  cried  another. 
44  Hurrah ! five  weeks’  extra  holidays,  and  no  fifth-form 
examination  ! ” 

44  I hope  not,”  said  Tom  ; 44  there’ll  be  no  Marylebone 
match  then  at  the  end  of  the  half.” 

Some  thought  one  thing,  some  another,  many  didn’t  be- 
lieve the  report ; but  the  next  day,  Tuesday,  Dr.  Robertson 
arrived,  and  stayed  all  day,  and  had  long  conferences  with 
the  Doctor. 

On  Wednesday  morning,  after  prayers,  the  Doctor  ad- 
dressed the  whole  school.  There  were  several  cases  of 
fever  in  different  houses,  he  said;  But  Dr.  Robertson,  after 
the  most  careful  examination,  had  assured  him  that  it  was 
not  infectious,  and  that  if  proper  care  were  taken,  there 
could  be  no  reason  for  stopping  the  school  work  at  present. 
The  examinations  were  just  coming  on,  and  it  would  be 
very  unadvisable  to  break  up  now.  However,  any  boys 
who  chose  to  do  so  were  at  liberty  to  write  home,  and,  if 
their  parents  wished  it,  to  leave  at  once.  He  should  send 
the  whole  school  home  if  the  fever  spread. 

The  next  day  Arthur  sickened,  but  there  was  no  other 
case.  Before  the  end  of  the  week  thirty  or  forty  boys  had 
gone,  but  the  rest  stayed  on.  There  was  a general  wish 


FEVER  IN  THE  SCHOOL. 


223 


to  please  the  Doctor,  and  a feeling  that  it  was  cowardly  to 
run  away. 

On  the  Saturday  Thompson  died,  in  the  bright  after- 
noon, while  the  cricket-match  was  going  on  as  usual  on  the 
big-side  ground;  the  Doctor  coming  from  his  death-bed, 
passed  along  the  gravel-walk  at  the  side  of  the  close,  but 
no  one  knew  what  had  happened  till  the  next  day.  At 
morning  lecture  it  began  to  be  rumored,  and  by  afternoon 
chapel  was  known  generally  ; and  a feeling  of  seriousness 
and  awe  at  the  actual  presence  of  death  among  them  came 
over  the  whole  school.  In  all  the  long  years  of  his  minis- 
try the  Doctor  perhaps  never  spoke  words  which  sank 
deeper  than  some  of  those  in  that  day’s  sermon.  “ When 
I came  yesterday  from  visiting  all  but  the  very  death-bed 
of  him  who  has  been  taken  from  us,  and  looked  around 
upon  all  the  familiar  objects  and  scenes  within  our  own 
ground,  where  your  common  amusements  were  going  on, 
with  your  common  cheerfulness  and  activity,  I felt  there 
was  nothing  painful  in  witnessing  that;  it  did  not  seem  in 
any  way  shocking  or  out  of  tune  with  those  feelings  which 
the  sight  of  a dying  Christian  must  be  supposed  to  awaken. 
The  unsuitableness  in  point  of  natural  feeling  between 
scenes  of  mourning  and  scenes  of  liveliness  did  not  at  all 
present  itself.  But  I did  feel  that  if  at  that  moment  any 
of  those  faults  had  been  brought  before  me  which  sometimes 
occur  among  us ; had  I heard  that  any  of  you  had  been 
guilty  of  falsehood,  or  of  drunkenness,  or  of  any  other  such 
sin  ; had  I heard  from  any  quarter  the  language  of  profane- 
ness, or  of  unkindness,  or  of  indecency;  had  I heard  or 
seen  any  signs  of  that  wretched  folly  which  courts  the 
laugh  of  fools  by  affecting  not  to  dread  evil  and  not  to 
care  for  good,  then  the  unsuitableness  of  any  of  these  things 
with  the  scene  I had  just  quitted  would  indeed  have  been 
most  intensely  painful.  And  why?  Not  because  such 
things  would  really  have  been  worse  than  at  any  other  time, 
but  because  at  such  a moment  the  eyes  are  opened  really 
to  know  good  and  evil,  because  we  then  feel  what  it  is  so 
to  live  as  that  death  becomes  an  infinite  blessing,  and  what 
it  is  so  to  live  also,  that  it  were  good  for  us  if  we  had  never 
been  born.” 

Tom  had  gone  into  chapel  in  sickening  anxiety  about 
Arthur,  but  he  came  out  cheered  and  strengthened  by  those 


224 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS . 


grand  words,  and  walked  up  alone  to  their  study.  And 
when  lie  sat  down  and  looked  round,  and  saw  Arthur’s 
straw-hat  and  cricket-jacket  hanging  on  their  pegs,  and 
marked  all  his  little  neat  arrangements,  not  one  of  which 
had  been  disturbed,  the  tears  indeed  rolled  down  his 
cheeks;  but  they  were  calm  and  blessed  tears,  and  he  re- 
peated to  himself,  “Yes,  Geordie’s  e)^es  are  opened — he 
knows  what  it  is  so  to  live  as  that  death  becomes  an  infi- 
nite blessing.  But  do  I ? Oh,  God,  can  I bear  to  lose 
him  ? ” 

The  week  passed  mournfully  away.  No  more  boys 
sickened,  but  Arthur  was  reported  worse  each  day,  and 
his  mother  arrived  early  in  the  week.  Tom  made  many 
appeals  to  be  allowed  to  see  him,  and  several  times  tried  to 
get  up  to  the  sick-room  ; but  the  housekeeper  was  always 
in  the  way,  and  at  last  spoke  to  the  Doctor,  who  kindly, 
but  peremptorily,  forbade  him. 

Thompson  was  buried  on  the  Tuesday ; and  the  burial 
service,  so  soothing  and  grand  always,  but  beyond  all 
words  solemn  when  read  over  a boy’s  grave  to  his  compan- 
ions, brought  him  much  comfort,  and  many  strange  , new 
thoughts  and  longings.  He  went  back  to  his  regular  life, 
and  played  cricket  and  bathed  as  usual ; it  seemed  to  him 
that  this  was  the  right  thing  to  do,  and  the  new  thoughts 
and  longings  became  more  brave  and  healthy  for  the  effort. 
The  crisis  came  on  Saturday,  the  day  week  that  Thompson 
had  died,  and  during  that  long  afternoon  Tom  sat  in  his 
study  reading  his  Bible  and  going  every  half-hour  to  the 
housekeeper’s  room,  expecting  each  time  to  hear  that  the 
gentle  and  brave  little  spirit  had  gone  home.  But  God 
had  work  for  Arthur  to  do  : the  crisis  passed — on  Sunday 
evening  he  was  declared  out  of  danger;  on  Monday  he 
sent  a message  to  Tom  that  he  was  almost  well,  had  changed 
his  room,  and  was  to  be  allowed  to  see  him  the  next  day. 

It  was  evening  when  the  housekeeper  summoned  him  to 
the  sick-room.  Arthur  was  lying  on  the  sofa  by  the  open 
window,  through  which  the  rays  of  the  western  sun  stole 
gently,  lighting  up  his  white  face  and  golden  hair.  Tom 
remembered  a German  picture  of  an  angel  which  he  knew; 
often  had  he  thought  how  transparent  and  golden  and 
spirit-like  it  was;  and  he  shuddered  to  think  how  like  it 
Arthur  looked,  and  felt  a shock  as  if  his  blood  had  all  stop* 


FEVER  IN  THE  SCHOOL. 


225 


ped  short,  as  he  realized  how  near  the  other  world  his 
friend  must  have  been  to  look  like  that.  Never  till  that 
moment  had  he  felt  how  his  little  chum  had  twined  himself 
around  his  heart-strings ; and  as  he  stole  gently  across  the 
, room  and  knelt  down,  and  put  his  arm  around  Arthur’s 
l head  on  the  pillow,  he  felt  ashamed  and  half  angry  at  his 
| own  red  and  brown  face,  and  the  bounding  sense  of  health 
! and  power  which  filled  every  fiber  of  his  body,  and  made 
! every  movement  of  mere  living  a joy  to  him.  lie  needn’t 
have  troubled  himself;  it  was  this  very  strength  and  power 
so  different  from  his  own  which  drew  Arthur  so  to  him. 

Arthur  laid  his  thin  white  hand,  on  which  the  blue  veins 
stood  out  so  plainly,  on  Tom’s  great  brown  fist,  and  smiled 
at  him;  and  then  looked  out  of  the  window  again,  as  if  he 
couldn’t  bear  to  lose  a moment  of  the  sunset,  into  the  tops 
of  the  great  feathery  elms,  round  which  the  rooks  were 
circling  and  clanging,  returning  in  flocks  from  their  even- 
ing’s foraging  parties.  The  elms  rustled,  the  sparrows  in 
the  ivy  just  outside  the  window  chirped  and  fluttered  about, 
quarreling  and  making  it  up  again  ; the  rooks  young  and 
old  talked  in  chorus ; and  the  merry  shouts  of  the  boys, 
and  the  sweet  click  of  the  cricket  bats,  came  up  cheerily 
from  below. 

“ Dear  George,”  said  Tom,  “ I am  so  glad  to  be  let  up  to 
see  you  at  last.  I’ve  tried  hard  to  come  so  often,  but  they 
wouldn’t  let  me  before.” 

“ Oh,  I know,  Tom ; Mary  has  told  me  every  day  about 
you,  and  how  she  was  obliged  to  make  the  Doctor  speak 
to  you  to  keep  you  away.  I’m  very  glad  you  didn’t  get 
up,  for  you  might  have  caught  it,  and  you  couldn’t  stand 
being  ill  with  all  the  matches  going  on.  And  you’re  in 
the  eleven  too,  I hear — -I’m  so  glad.” 

“Yes,  ain’t  it  jolly?”  said  Tom  proudly;  “ I’m  ninth 
too.  I made  forty  at  the  last  pie-match  and  caught  three 
fellows  out.  So  I was  put  in  above  Jones  and  Tucker. 
Tucker’s  so  savage,  for  he  was  head  of  the  twenty-two.” 

“ Well,  I think  you  ought  to  be  higher  yet,”  said  Arthur, 
who  was  as  jealous  for  the  renown  of  Tom  in  games  as 
Tom  was  for  his  as  a scholar. 

“ Never  mind,  I don’t  care  about  cricket  or  anything  now 
you’re  getting  well,  Geordie ; and  I shouldn’t  have  been  hurt, 
I know,  if  they’d  have  let  me  come  up — nothing  hurts  me. 

15 


226 


TOM  BLOWN  S SCHOOL-DAYS. 


But  you’ll  get  about  now  directly,  won’t  you?  You  won’t 
believe  how  clean  I’ve  kept  the  study.  All  your  things 
are  just  as  you  left  them  ; and  I feed  the  old  magpie  just 
when  you  used,  though  I have  to  come  in  from  big-side  for 
him,  the  old  rip.  He  won’t  look  pleased  ail  I can  do,  and 
sticks  his  head  first  on  one  side  and  then  on  the  other,  and 
blinks  at  me  before  he’ll  begin  to  eat,  till  I’m  half  inclined 
to  box  his  ears.  And  whenever  East  comes  in,  you  should 
see  him  hop  off  to  the  window,  dot  and  go  one,  though 
Harry  wouldn’t  touch  a feather  of  him  now.” 

Arthur  laughed.  “ Old  Gravey  has  a good  memory ; 
he  can’t  forget  the  sieges  of  poor  Martin’s  den  in  old  times.” 
He  paused  a moment,  and  then  went  on.  46  You  can’t  think 
how  often  I’ve  been  thinking  of  old  Martin  since  I’ve  been 
ill : I suppose  one’s  mind  gets  restless,  and  likes  to  wander 
off  to  strange  unknown  places.  I wonder  what  queer  new 
pets  the  old  boy  has  got ; how  he  must  be  reveling  in  the 
thousand  new  birds,  beasts,  and  fishes.” 

Tom  felt  a pang  of  jealousy,  but  kicked  it  out  in  a mo- 
ment. 44  Fancy  him  on  a South-Sea  island,  with  the  Cher- 
okees  or  Patagonians,  or  some  such  wild  niggers  ” (Tom’s 
ethnology  and  geography  were  faulty,  but  sufficient  for 
his  needs)  ; 44  they’ll  make  the  old  Madman  cock  medicine- 
man, and  tattoo  him  all  over.  Perhaps  he’s  cutting  about 
now  all  blue,  and  has  a squaw  and  a wigwam.  He’ll  im- 
prove their  boomerangs,  and  be  able  to  throw  them  too, 
without  having  old  Thomas  sent  after  him  by  the  Doctor 
to  take  them  away.” 

Arthur  laughed  at  the  remembrance  of  the  boomerang 
story,  but  then  looked  grave  again,  and  said,  44  He’ll  con- 
vert all  the  island,  I know.” 

44  Yes,  if  he  don’t  blow  it  up  first.” 

44  Do  you  remember,  Tom,  how  you  and  East  used  to 
laugh  at  him  and  chaff  him,  because  he  said  he  was  sure 
the  rooks  all  had  calling-over  or  prayers,  or  something  of 
the  sort  when  the  locking-up  bell  rang?  Well  I declare,” 
said  Arthur,  looking  up  seriously  into  Tom’s  laughing 
eyes,  44 1 do  think  he  was  right.  Since  I’ve  been  lying  here, 
I’ve  watched  them  every  night ; and  do  you  know,  they  really 
do  come,  and  perch  all  of  them  just  about  locking-up  time  ; 
and  then  first  there’s  a regular  chorus  of  caws,  and  then 
they  stop  a bit,  and  one  old  fellow,  or  perhaps  two  or  three 


FEVER  IN  THE  SCHOOL.  227 

in  different  trees,  caw  solos,  and  then  off  they  all  go  again, 
fluttering  about  and  cawing  anyhow  till  they  roost.” 

“ I wonder  if  the  old  blackies  do  talk,”  said  Tom,  look- 
ing up  at  them.  “ How  they  must  abuse  me  and  East,  and 
pray  for  the  Doctor  for  stopping  the  slinging.” 

“There!  look,  look!”  cried  Arthur;  “don’t  you  see 
the  old  fellow  without  a tail  coming  up  ? Martin  used  to 
call  him  the  6 clerk.’  He  can’t  steer  himself.  You  never 
saw  such  fun  as  he  is  in  a high  wind,  when  he  can’t  steer 
himself  home,  and  gets  carried  right  past  the  trees,  and 
has  to  bear  up  again  and  again  before  he  can  perch.” 

The  locking-up  bell  began  to  toll,  and  the  two  boys  were 
silent,  and  listened  to  it.  The  sound  soon  carried  Tom  off 
to  the  river  and  the  woods,  and  he  began  to  go  over  in  his 
mind  the  many  occasions  on  which  he  had  heard  that  toll 
coming  faintly  down  the  breeze,  and  had  to  pack  up  his  rod 
in  a hurry,  and  make  a run  for  it,  to  get  in  before  the  gates 
were  shut.  He  was  roused  with  a start  from  his  memories 
by  Arthur’s  voice  gentle  and  weak  from  his  late  illness. 

“ Tom,  will  you  be  angry  if  I talk  to  you  very  seriously  ? ” 
“ No,  dear  old  boy,  not  I.  But  ain’t  you  faint,  Arthur, 
or  ill  ? What  can  I get  you  ? Don’t  say  anything  to  hurt 
yourself  now — you  are  very  weak;  let  me  come  up  again.” 
“ No,  no,  I shan’t  hurt  myself:  I’d  sooner  speak  to  you 
now,  if  you  don’t  mind.  I’ve  asked  Mary  to  tell  the  Doc- 
tor that  you  are  with  me,  so  you  needn’t  go  down  to  call- 
ing-over; and  I mayn’t  have  another  chance,  for  I shall 
most  likely  have  to  go  home  for  change  of  air  to  get  well, 
and  mayn’t  come  back  this  half.” 

“ Oh,  do  you  think  you  must  go  away  before  the  end  of 
the  half  ? I’m  so  sorry.  It’s  more  than  five  weeks  yet 
'to  the  holidays,  and  all  the  fifth-form  examination  and 
half  the  cricket  matches  to  come  yet.  And  what  shall 
I do  all  that  time  alone  in  our  study?  Why,  Arthur, 
it  will  be  more  than  twelve  weeks  before  I see  you  again. 
Oh,  hang  it,  I can’t  stand  that!  Besides,  who’s  to  keep  me 
up  to  working  at  the  examination  books  ! I shall  come 
out  bottom  of  the  form  as  sure  as  eggs  is  eggs.” 

Tom  was  rattling  on,  half  in  joke,  half  in  earnest,  for  he 
wanted  to  get  Arthur  out  of  his  serious  vein,  thinking  it 
would  do  him  harm  ; but  Arthur  broke  in — 

“ Oh,  please,  Tom,  stop,  or  you’ll  drive  all  I had  to  say  out 


228 


TOM  BMOW2F8  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


of  my  head.  And  I’m  already  horribly  afraid  I’m  going  to 
make  yon  angry.” 

44  Don’t  gammon,  young’un,”  rejoined  Tom  (the  use  of  the 
old  name,  dear  to  him  from  old  recollections,  made  Arthur 
start  and  smile,  and  feel  quite  happy) ; 44  you  know  you 
ain’t  afraid,  and  you’ve  never  made  me  angry  since  the  first 
month  we  chummed  uogether  Now  I’m  going  to  be  quite 
sober  for  a quarter  of  on  hour,  which  is  more  than  1’  am 
once  in  a year,  so  make  the  most  of  it ; heave  ahead,  and 
pitch  into  me  right  and  left.  ” 

44  Dear  Tom,  I ain’t  going  to  pitch  into  you,  ” said  Ar- 
thur piteously  ; 44  and  it  seems  so  cocky  in  me  to  be  advis- 
ing you  who’ve  been  my  backbone  ever  since  I’ve  been  at 
Rugby,  and  have  made  the  school  a paradise  to  me.  Ah,  I 
see  I shall  never  do  it  unless  I go  head-over-heels  at  once, 
as  you  said  when  you  taught  me  to  swim.  Tom,  I want 
you  to  give  up  using  vulgus-books  and  cribs.  ” 

Arthur  sank  back  on  to  his  pillow  with  a sigh,  as  if  the 
effort  had  been  great ; but  the  worst  was  now  over,  and 
he  looked  straight  at  Tom,  who  was  evidently  taken  aback. 
He  leaned  his  elbows  on  his  knees,  and  stuck  his  hands  in- 
to his  hair,  whistled  a verse  of  44  Billy  Taylor,  ” and  then 
was  quite  silent  for  another  minute.  Not  a shade  crossed 
his  face,  but  he  was  clearly  puzzled.  At  last  he  looked 
up  and  caught  Arthur’s  anxious  look,  took  his  hand,  and 
said  simply — - 

44  A\  hy,  young’un  ? ” 

44  Because  you’re  the  honestest  boy  in  Rugby,  and  that 
ain’t  honest.  ” 

44 1 don’t  see  that.  ” 

“ What  were  you  sent  to  Rugby,  for  ? ” 

“ Well,  I don’t  know  exactly — nobody  ever  told  me.  I 
suppose  because  all  boys  are  sent  to  a public  school  in  En- 
gland. ” 

“But  what  do  you  think  yourself  ? What  do  you  want 
to  do  here,  and  to  carry  away  ? ” 

Tom  thought  a minute.  44 1 want  to  be  A 1 at  cricket 
and  football,  and  all  the  other  games,  and  to  make  my 
hands  keep  my  head  against  any  fellow,  lout  or  gentleman. 
I want  to  get  into  the  sixth  before  I leave,  and  to  please 
the  Doctor  ; and  I want  to  carry  away  just  as  much  Latin 
and  Greek  as  will  take  me  through  Oxford  respectably. 


FEVER  IN  THE  SCHOOL. 


229 


There  now,  young’un,  I never  though  of  it  before,  but  that’s 
petty  much  about  my  figure.  Ain’t  it  all  on  the  square  ? 
What  have  you  got  to  say  to  that  ? ” 

“ Whv,  that  you  are  pretty  sure  to  do  all  that  you  want, 
then.”  " 

44  Well,  I hope  so.  But  you’ve  forgot  one  thing,  that  I 
want  to  leave  behind  me.  I want  to  leave  behind  me,” 
said  Tom  speaking  slow,  and  looking  much  moved,  44  the 
name  of  a fellow  who  never  bullied  a little  boy,  or  turned 
his  back  on  a big  one.” 

Arthur  pressed  his  hand,  and  after  a moment’s  silence 
went  on:  44  You  say,  Tom,  you  want  to  please  the  Doctor. 
Now,  do  you  want  to  please  him  by  what  he  thinks  you  do, 
or  by  what  you  really  do  ? ” 

44  By  what  I really  do,  of  course.” 

44  Does  he  think  you  use  cribs  and  vulgus-books  ? ” 

Tom  felt  at  once  that  his  flank  was  turned,  but  he 
couldn’t  give  in.  44  He  was  at  Winchester  himself,”  said 
he  ; 44  he  knows  all  about  it.” 

44  Yes  but  does  he  think  you  use  them  ? Do  you  think 
he  approves  of  it  ? ” 

44  You  young  villain!”  said  Tom,  shaking  his  fist  at 
Arthur,  half  vexed  and  half  pleased,  44 1 never  think  about 
it.  Hang  it — there,  perhaps  he  don’t.  Well,  I suppose  he 
don’t.” 

Arthur  saw  that  he  had  got  his  point ; he  knew  his 
friend  well,  and  was  wise  in  silence  as  in  speech.  He 
only  said,  44 1 would  sooner  have  the  Doctor’s  good  opin- 
ion of  me  as  I really  am  than  any  man’s  in  the  world.” 
After  another  minute,  Tom  began  again : 44  Look  here, 
young  ’un,  how  on  earth  am  I to  get  time  to  play  the 
matches  this  half  if  I give  up  cribs?  We’re  in  the  middle 
of  that  long  crabbed  chorus  in  the  Agamemnon;  I can 
only  just  make  head  or  tail  of  it  with  the  crib.  Then 
there’s  Pericles’  speech  coming  on  in  Thucydides,  and 
4 The  Birds’  to  get  up  for  the  examination,  besides  the  Tac- 
itus.” Tom  groaned  at  the  thought  of  his  accumulated 
labors.  44 1 say,  young  ’un,  there’s  only  five  weeks  or  so 
left  to  the  holidays  ; mayn’t  I go  on  as  usual  for  this  half? 
I’ll  tell  the  Doctor  about  it  some  day,  or  you  may.” 

Arthur  looked  out  of  window  ; the  twilight  had  come 
on,  and  all  was  silent.  He  repeated  in  a low  voice, 


230 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-BAYS. 


“ In  this  thing  the  Lord  pardon  thy  servant,  that  when 
my  master  goeth  into  the  house  of  Rimmon  to  worship 
there,  and  he  leaneth  on  my  hand,  and  I bow  down  myself 
in  the  house  of  Rimmon,  when  I bow  down  myself  in  the 
house  of  Rimmon,  the  Lord  pardon  thy  servant  in  this 
thing.” 

Not  a word  more  was  said  on  the  subject,  and  the  boys 
were  again  silent — one  of  those  blessed,  short  silences  in 
which  the  resolves  which  color  a life  are  so  often  taken. 

Tom  was  the  first  to  break  it.  “ You’ve  been  very  ill 
indeed,  haven’t  you,  Geordie  ? ” said  he,  with  a mixture  of 
awe  and  curiosity,  feeling  as  if  his  friend  had  been  in 
some  strange  place  or  scene,  of  which  he  could  form  no 
idea,  and  full  of  the  memory  of  his  own  thoughts  during 
the  past  week. 

“ Yes,  very.  I’m  sure  the  Doctor  thought  I was  going 
to  die.  He  gave  me  the  sacrament  last  Sunday,  and  you 
can’t  think  what  he  is  when  one  is  ill.  He  said  such 
brave,  and  tender,  and  gentle  things  to  me,  I felt  quite 
light  and  strong  after  it,  and  never  had  any  more  fear. 
My  mother  brought  our  old  medical  man,  who  attended 
me  when  I was  a poor  sickly  child ; he  said  my  constitu- 
tion was  quite  changed,  and  that  I’m  fit  for  anything  now. 
If  I hadn’t,  I couldn’t  have  stood  three  days  of  this  illness. 
That’s  all  thanks  to  you,  and  the  games  you  made  me 
fond  of.” 

“More  thanks  to  old  Martin,”  said  Tom;  “he’s  been 
your  real  friend  ” 

“Nonsense,  Tom;  he  never  could  have  done  for  me 
what  you  have.” 

“ Well,  I don’t  know ; I did  little  enough.  Did  they  tell 
you — you  won’t  mind  hearing  it  now,  I know — that  poor 
Thompson  died  last  week  ? The  other  three  boys  are  get- 
ting quite  round,  like  }rou.” 

“ Oh,  yes,  I heard  of  it.” 

Then  Tom,  who  was  quite  full  of  it,  told  Arthur  of  the 
burial-services  in  the  chapel,  and  how  it  had  impressed  him, 
and  he  believed  all  the  other  boys.  “ And  though  the  Doc- 
tor never  said  a word  about  it,”  said  he,  “ and  it  was  a half- 
holiday and  match-day,  there  wasn’t  a game  played  in  the 
close  all  the  afternoon,  and  the  boys  all  went  about  as  if  it 
were  Sunday,” 


FEVER  IN  THE  SCHOOL. 


231 


“ I’m  very  glad  of  it,”  said  Arthur.  “But,  Tom,  I’ve 
had  such  strange  thoughts  about  death  lately.  I’ve  never 
told  a soul  of  them,  not  even  my  mother.  Sometimes  I 
think  they  are  wrong ; but,  do  you  know,  I don’t  think  in 
my  heart  I could  be  sorry  at  the  death  of  any  of  my 
friends.” 

Tom  was  taken  quite  aback.  “ What  in  the  world  is  the 
young  ’un  after  now?”  thought  he;  “I’ve  swallowed  a 
good  many  of  his  crotchets,  but  this  altogether  beats  me. 
He  can’t  be  quite  right  in  his  head.”  He  didn’t  want  to 
say  a word,  and  shifted  about  uneasily  in  the  dark  : how- 
ever, Arthur  seemed  to  be  waiting  for  an  answer,  so  at 
last  he  said,  “I  don’t  think  I quite  see  what  you  mean, 
Geordie.  One’s  told  so  often  to  think  about  death, 
that  I’ve  tried  it  on  sometimes,  especially  this  last  week. 
But  we  won’t  talk  of  it  now.  I’d  better  go — you’re  get- 
ting tired,  and  I shall  do  you  harm.” 

“ No,  no,  indeed  I ain’t  Tom  ; you  must  stop  till  nine, 
there’s  only  twenty  minutes.  I’ve  settled  you  shall  stop 
till  nine.  And  oh!  do  let  me  talk  to  you — I must  talk  to 
you.  I see  it’s  just  as  I feared.  You  think  I’m  half  mad 
— don’t  you  now?” 

“Well,  I did  think  it  odd  what  you  said,  Geordie,  as 
you  ask  me.” 

Arthur  paused  a moment,  and  then  said  quickly,  “ I’ll 
tell  you  how  it  all  happened.  At  first,  when  I was  sent  to 
the  sick  room,  and  found  I had  really  got  the  fever,  I was 
terribly  frightened.  I thought  I should  die,  and  I could 
not  face  it  for  a moment.  I don’t  think  it  was  sheer  cow- 
ardice at  first,  but  I thought  how  hard  it  was  to  be  taken 
away  from  my  mother  and  sisters,  and  you  all,  just  as  I 
was  beginning  to  see  my  way  to  many  things,  and  to  feel 
that  I might  be  a man  and  do  a man’s  work.  To  die  with- 
out having  fought,  and  worked,  and  given  one’s  life  away, 
was  two  hard  to  bear.  I got  terribly  impatient,  and  accused 
God  of  injustice,  and  strove  to  justify  myself;  and  the 
harder  I strove  the  deeper  I sank.  Then  the  image  of 
my  dear  father  often  came  across  me,  but  I turned  from  it. 
Whenever  it  came,  a heavy  numbing  throb  seemed  to  take 
hold  of  my  heart  and  say,  4 Dead — dead — dead.’  And  I 
cried  out,  ‘The  living,  the  living  shall  praise  Thee,  O 
God ; the  dead  cannot  praise  Thee.  There  is  no  work  in 


£82 


TOM  BROWN* S SCHOOL-DAYS . 


the  grave ; in  the  night  no  man  can  work.  But  I can  work. 
I can  do  great  things.  I will  do  great  things.  Why  wilt 
thou  slay  me  ? ’ And  so  I struggled  and  plunged,  deeper 
and  deeper,  and  went  down  into  a living  black  tomb. 
I was  alone  there,  with  no  power  to  stir  or  think  ; 
alone  with  myself  ; beyond  the  reach  of  all  human 
f cllowship ; beyond  Christ’s  reach,  I thought,  in  my  night- 
mare. You,  who  are  brave  and  bright  and  strong,  can 
have  no  idea  of  that  agony.  Pray  to  God  you  never  may. 
Pray  as  for  your  life.” 

Arthur  stopped — |»om  exhaustion,  Tom  thought ; but 
what  between  his  fear  lest  Arthur  should  hurt  himself,  his 
awe,  and  longing  for  him  to  go  on,  he  couldn’t  ask  or  stir 
to  help  him. 

Presently  he  went  on,  but  quite  calm  and  slow.  “ I 
don’t  know  how  long  I was  in  that  state.  For  more  than 
a day,  I know;  for  I was  quite  conscious,  and  lived  my 
outer  life  all  the  time,  and  took  my  medicine,  and  spoke 
to  my  mother,  and  heard  what  they  said.  But  I didn’t 
take  much  note  of  time ; I thought  time  was  over  for  me, 
and  that  that  tomb  was  what  was  beyond.  Well,  on  last  Sun- 
day morning,  as  I seemed  to  lie  in  that  tomb,  alone,  as  I 
thought,  forever  and  ever,  the  black  dead  wall  was  cleft  in 
two,  and  I was  caught  up  and  borne  through  into  the  light 
by  some  great  power,  some  living  mighty  spirit.  Tom,  do 
you  remember  the  living  creatures  and  the  wheels  in 
Ezekiel  ? It  was  just  like  that : 6 when  they  went  I heard 
the  noise  of  their  wings,  like  the  noise  of  great  waters,  as 
t he  voice  of  the  Almighty,  the  voice  of  speech,  as  the  noise 
of  an  host ; when  they  stood  they  let  down  their  wings’ 
— 4 and  they  went  every  one  straight  forward ; whither  the 
spirit  was  to  go  they  went,  and  they  turned  not  when 
they  went/  And  we  rushed  through  the  bright  air,  which 
was  full  of  myriads  of  living  creatures,  and  paused  on  the 
brink  of  a great  river.  And  the  power  held  me  up,  and  I 
knew  that  that  great  river  was  the  grave,  and  death  dwelt 
there  ; but  not  the  death  I had  met  in  the  black  tomb — that  I 
felt  was  gone  forever.  For  on  the  other  bank  of  the  great 
river  I saw  men  and  women  and  children  rising  up  pure 
and  bright,  and  the  tears  were  wiped  from  their  eyes,  and 
they  put  on  glory  and  strength,  and  all  weariness  and  pain 
fell  away.  And  beyond  were  a multitude  which  no  man 


FEVER  IN  THE  SCHOOL, 


238 


could  number,  and  they  worked  at  some  great  work  ; and 
they  who  rose  from  the  river  went  on  and  joined  in  the 
work.  They  all  worked,  and  each  worked  in  a different 
way,  but  all  at  the  same  work.  And  I saw  there  my  father, 
and  the  men  in  the  old  town  whom  I knew  when  I was  a 
child ; many  a hard,  stern  man,  who  never  came  to  church, 
and  whom  they  called  atheist  and  infidel.  There  they 
were,  side  by  side  with  my  father,  whom  I had  seen  toil 
and  die  for  them,  and  women  and  little  children,  and  the 
seal  was  on  the  foreheads  of  all.  And  I longed  to  see 
what  the  work  was,  and  could  not ; so  I tried  to  plunge  in 
the  river,  for  I thought  I would  join  them,  but  I could 
not.  Then  I looked  about  to  see  how  they  got  into  the 
river.  And  this  I could  not  see,  but  I saw  myriads  on 
this  side,  and  they  too  worked,  and  I knew  that  it  was  the 
same  work  ; and  the  same  seal  was  on  their  foreheads.  And 
though  I saw  that  there  was  toil  and  anguish  in  the  work 
of  these,  and  that  most  that  were  working  were  blind  and 
feeble,  yet  I longed  no  more  to  plunge  into  the  river,  but 
more  and  more  to  know  what  the  work  was.  And  as  I 
looked  I saw  my  mother  and  my  sisters,  and  I saw  the 
Doctor  and  you,  Tom,  and  hundreds  more  whom  I knew ; 
and  at  last  I saw  myself  too,  and  I was  toiling  and  doing 
ever  so  little  a piece  of  the  great  work.  Then  it  all  melted 
away,  and  the  power  left  me,  and  as  it  left  me  I thought  I 
heard  a voice  say,  4 The  vision  is  for  an  appointed  time  ; 
though  it  tarry,  wait  for  it,  for  in  the  end  it  shall  speak 
and  not  lie,  it  shall  surely  come,  it  shall  not  tarry.’  It 
was  early  morning  I know  then,  it  was  so  quiet  and  cool, 
and  my  mother  was  fast  asleep  in  the  chair  by  my  bedside  ; 
but  it  wasn’t  only  a dream  of  mine.  I know  it  wasn’t  a 
dream.  Then  I fell  into  a deep  sleep,  and  only  woke  after 
afternoon  chapel;  and  the  Doctor  came  and  gave  me  the 
sacrament,  as  I told  you.  I told  him  and  my  mother  I should 
get  well — I knew  I should  ; but  I couldn’t  tell  them  why. 
Tom,”  said  Arthur,  gently,  after  another  minute,  44  do  you 
see  why  I could  not  grieve  now  to  see  my  dearest  friend 
die  ? It  can’t  be — it  isn’t,  all  fever  or  illness.  God  would 
never  have  let  me  see  it  so  clear  if  it  wasn’t  true.  I don’t 
understand  it  all  yet — it  will  take  me  my  life  and  longer 
to  do  that — to  find  out  what  the  work  is.” 

When  Arthur  stopped  there  was  a long  pause.  Tom 


234 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-BAYS . 


could  not  speak,  he  was  almost  afraid  to  breathe,  lest  he 
should  break  the  train  of  Arthur’s  thoughts.  He  longed 
to  hear  more,  and  to  ask  questions.  In  another  minute 
nine  o’clock  struck,  and  a gentle  tap  at  the  door  called 
them  both  back  into  the  world  again.  They  did  not 
answer,  however,  for  a moment,  and  so  the  door  opened 
and  a lady  came  in  carrying  a candle. 

She  went  straight  to  the  sofa,  and  took  hold  of  Arthur’s 
hand,  and  then  stooped  down  and  kissed  him. 

44  My  dearest  boy,  you  feel  a little  feverish  again.  Why 
didn’t  you  have  lights?  You’ve  talked  too  much  and  ex- 
cited yourself  in  the  dark.” 

44  Oh,  no,  mother ; you  can’t  think  how  well  I feel.  I 
shall  start  with  you  to-morrow  for  Devonshire.  But, 
mother,  here’s  my  friend,  here’s  Tom  Brown — you  know 
him.” 

44  Yes,  indeed,  I’ve  known  him  for  years,”  she  said,  and 
held  out  her  hand  to  Tom,  who  was  now  standing  up  be- 
hind the  sofa.  This  was  Arthur’s  mother.  Tall  and  slight 
and  fair,  with  masses  of  golden  hair  drawn  back  from  the 
broad  white  forehead,  and  the  calm  blue  eye  meeting  his  so 
deep  and  open — the  eye  that  he  knew  so  well,  for  it  was  his 
friend’s  over  again,  and  the  lovely,  tender  mouth  that 
trembled  while  he  looked,  She  stood  there  a woman  of 
thirty-eight,  old  enough  to  be  his  mother,  and  one  whose 
face  showed  the  lines  which  must  be  written  on  the  faces 
of  good  men’s  wives  and  widows — but  he  thought  he  had 
never  seen  anything  so  beautiful.  He  couldn’t  help 
wondering  if  Arthur’s  sisters  were  like  her. 

Tom  held  her  hand,  and  looked  on  straight  in  her  face ; 
he  could  neither  let  it  go  nor  speak. 

44  Now,  Tom,”  said  Arthur,  laughing,  44  where  are  your 
manners?  you’ll  stare  my  mother  out  of  countenance.” 
Tom  dropped  the  little  hand  with  a sigh.  44  There,  sit 
down,  both  of  you.  Here  dearest  mother,  there’s  room 
here  ; ” and  he  made  a place  on  the  sofa  for  her.  44  Tom, 
you  needn’t  go;  I’m  sure  you  won’t  be  called  up  at  first 
lesson.”  Tom  felt  that  he  would  risk  being  floored  at  every 
lesson  for  the  rest  of  his  natural  school-life  sooner  than  go, 
so  sat  down.  44  And  now,”  said  Arthur,  44 1 have  realized 
one  of  the  dearest  wishes  of  my  life — to  see  you  two 
together.” 


FEVER  IN  THE  SCHOOL . 


235 


And  then  he  led  away  the  talk  to  their  home  in  Devon- 
shire, and  the  red  bright  earth,  and  the  deep  green  combes, 
and  the  peat  streams  like  cairngorm  pebbles,  and  the  wild 
moor  with  its  high  cloudy  Tors  for  a giant  background  to 
the  picture — till  Tom  got  jealous,  and  stood  up  for  the 
clear  chalk  streams,  and  the  emerald  water  meadows  and 
great  elms  and  willows  of  the  dear  old  Royal  county,  as  he 
gloried  to  call  it.  And  the  mother  sat  on  quiet  and  loving, 
rejoicing  in  their  life.  The  quarter-to-ten  struck,  and  the 
bell  rang  for  bed  before  they  had  well  began  their  talk,  as 
it  seemed. 

Then  Tom  rose  with  a sigh  to  go. 

44  Shall  I see  you  in  the  morning,  Geordie  ?”  said  he,  as 
he  shook  his  friend’s  hand.  44  Never  mind  though  ; you’ll 
be  back  next  half,  and  I sha’n’t  forget  the  house  of  Rim- 
mon.” 

Arthur’s  mother  got  up  and  walked  with  him  to  the 
door,  and  there  gave  him  her  hand  again,  and  again  his 
eyes  met  that  deep  loving  look,  which  was  like  a spell  up- 
on him.  Her  voice  trembled  slightly  as  she  said,  44  Good 
night — you  are  one  who  knows  what  our  Father  has  prom- 
ised to  the  friend  of  the  widow  and  the  fatherless.  May 
He  deal  with  you  as  you  have  dealt  with  me  and  mine  ! ” 

Tom  was  quite  upset ; he  mumbled  something  about 
owing  everything  good  in  him  to  Geordie — looked  in  her 
face  again,  pressed  her  hand  to  his  lips,  and  rushed  down 
stairs  to  his  study,  where  he  sat  till  old  Thomas  came 
kicking  at  the  door  to  tell  him  his  allowance  would  be 
stopped  if  he  didn’t  go  off  to  bed.  (Tt  would  have  been 
stopped  anyhow,  but  that  he  was  a great  favorite  with  the 
old  gentleman,  who  loved  to  come  out  in  the  afternoon 
into  the  close  to  Tom’s  wicket,  and  bowl  slow  twisters  to 
him,  and  talk  of  the  glories  of  by-gone  Surrey  heroes,  with 
whom  he  had  played  in  former  generations.)  So  Tom 
roused  himself,  and  took  up  his  candle  to  go  to  bed ; and 
then  for  the  first  time  was  aware  of  a beautiful  new  fishing- 
rod,  with  old  Eaton’s  mark  on  it,  and  a splendidly  bound 
Bible,  which  lay  on  his  table,  on  the  title-page  of  which 
was  written — 44  Tom  Brown,  from  his  affectionate  and 
grateful  friends,  Frances  Jane  Arthur;  George  Arthur.” 

I leave  you  all  to  guess  how  he  slept,  and  what  he 
dreamed  of* 


236 


TOM  BROWN  8 SCHOOL-DAYS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HARRY  EAST’S  DILEMMAS  AND  DELIVERANCES. 

The  Holy  Supper  is  kept  indeed, 

In  whatso  we  share  with  another’s  need — 

Not  that  which  we  gave,  but  what  we  share, 

For  the  gift  without  the  giver  is  bare: 

Who  bestows  himself  with  his  alms  feeds  three, 

Himself,  his  hungering  neighbor,  and  me. 

The  Vision  of  Sir  Launfal — Lowell,  p.  11. 

The  next  morning,  after  breakfast,  Tom,  East,  and 
Gower  met  as  usual  to  learn  their  second  lesson  together. 
Tom  had  been  considering  how  to  break  his  proposal  of 
giving  up  the  crib  to  the  others,  and  having  found  no 
better  way  (as  indeed  none  better  can  ever  found  by  man 
or  boy),  told  them  simply  what  had  happened ; how  he 
had  been  to  see  Arthur,  who  had  talked  to  him  upon  the 
subject,  and  what  he  had  said,  and  for  his  part  he  had 
made  up  his  mind,  and  wasn’t  going  to  use  cribs  anymore; 
and  not  being  quite  sure  of  his  ground,  took  the  high  and 
pathetic  tone,  and  was  proceeding  to  say,  “ how  that 
having  learned  his  lessons  with  them  for  so  many  }rears,  it 
would  grieve  him  much  to  put  an  end  to  the  arrangement, 
and  he  hoped  at  any  rate  that  if  they  wouldn’t  go  on  with 
him,  they  should  still  be  just  as  good  friends,  and  respect 
one  another’s  motives — but — ” 

Here  the  other  boys,  who  had  been  listening  with  open 
eyes  and  ears,  burst  in — 

“ Stuff  and  nonsense  ! ” cried  Gower.  “ Here,  East,  get 
down  the  crib  and  find  the  place.” 

“ Oh,  Tommy,  Tommy ! ” said  East,  proceeding  to  do  as 
he  was  bidden,  “ that  it  should  ever  have  come  to  this.  I 
knew  Arthur ’d  be  the  ruin  of  you  some  day,  and  you 
of  me.  And  now  the  time’s  come,”  and  he  made  a dole- 
ful face. 

“ I don’t  know  about  ruin,”  answered  Tom  ; “ I know  that 
you  and  I would  have  had  the  sack  long  ago,  if  it  hadn’t 
been  for  him.  And  you  know  it  as  well  as  I.” 

“Well,  we  were  in  a bad  dish  way  before  he  came.  I 
own  ; but  this  new  crotchet  of  his  is  past  a joke.” 


HARRY  EASTS  DILEMMAS  AND  DELIVERANCES . 237 

“ Let’s  give  it  a trial,  Harry ; come — you  know  how 
often  he  has  been  right  and  we  wrong.” 

“Now,  don’t  you  two  be  jawing  away  about  young 
Square-toes,”  struck  in  Gower.  “ He’s  no  end  of  a suck- 
ing wiseacre,  I dare  say,  but  we’ve  no  time  to  lose,  and  I’ve 
got  the  fives’-court  at  half-past  nine.” 

“ I say,  Gower,”  said  Tom,  appealingly,  “ be  a good  fel- 
low, and  let’s  try  if  we  can’t  get  on  without  the  crib.” 

“ What ! in  this  chorus  ? Why,  we  shan’t  get  through 
ten  lines.” 

“ I say,  Tom,”  cried  East,  having  hit  on  a new  idea, 
“ don’t  you  remember,  when  we  were  in  the  upper  fourth, 
and  old  Momus  caught  me  construing  off  the  leaf  of  a crib 
which  I’d  torn  out  and  put  in  my  book,  and  which  would 
float  out  on  to  the  floor,  he  sent  me  up  to  be  flogged  for 
it?” 

“ Yes,  I remember  it  very  well.” 

“ Well,  the  Doctor,  after  he’d  flogged  me,  told  me  him- 
self that  he  didn’t  flog  me  for  using  a translation,  but  for 
taking  it  into  lesson,  and  using  it  there  when  I hadn’t 
learned  a word  before  I came  in.  He  said  there  was  no 
harm  in  using  a translation  to  get  a clue  to  hard  passages, 
if  you  tried  all  you  could  first  to  make  them  out  without.” 

“ Did  he,  though  ? ” said  Tom  : “ then  Arthur  must  be 
wrong.” 

“ Of  course  he  is,”  said  Gower,  “ the  little  prig.  We’ll 
only  use  the  crib  when  we  can’t  construe  without  it.  Go 
ahead,  East.” 

And  on  this  agreement  they  started  : Tom  satisfied  with 
having  made  his  confession,  and  not  sorry  to  have  a locus 
\ poenitentice , and  not  to  be  deprived  altogether  of  the  use  of 
his  old  and  faithful  friend. 

The  boys  went  on  as  usual,  each  taking  a sentence  in 
turn,  and  the  crib  being  handed  to  the  one  whose  turn  it 
was  to  construe.  Of  course  Tom  could  n’t  object  to  this, 
as,  was  it  not  simply  lying  there  to  be  appealed  to  in  case 
the  sentence  should  prove  too  hard  altogether  for  the  con- 
struer  ? But  it  must  be  owned  that  Gower  and  East  did 
not  make  very  tremendous  exertions  to  conquer  their  sen- 
tences before  having  recourse  to  its  help.  Tom,  however, 
with  the  most  heroic  virtue  and  gallantry  rushed  into  his 
sentence,  searching  in  a high-minded  manner  for  nomina- 


238  TOM  BROWN’S  SCHOOL-DA  TS. 

tive  and  verb,  and  turning  over  his  dictionary  frantically 
for  the  first  hard  word  that  stopped  him  But  in  the  mean- 
time Gower,  who  was  bent  on  getting  to  fives,  would  peep 
quietly  into  the  crib,  and  then  suggest,  “ Don’t  you  think 
this  is  the  meaning  ? ” “ I think  you  must  take  it  this  way, 
Brown ; ” and  as  Tom  didn’t  see  his  way  to  not  profiting 
by  these  suggestions,  the  lesson  went  on  about  as  quickly 
as  usual,  and  Gower  was  able  to  start  for  the  fives’-court 
within  five  minutes  of  the  half-hour. 

When  Tom  and  East  were  left  face  to  face,  they  looked 
at  one  another  for  a minute,  Tom  puzzled,  and  East  chock 
full  of  fun,  and  then  burst  into  a roar  of  laughter. 

“ Well,  Tom,”  said  East,  recovering  himself,  “I  don’t 
see  any  objection  to  the  new  way.  It’s  about  as  good  as 
the  old  one,  I think ; besides  the  advantage  it  gives  one  of 
feeling  virtuous,  and  looking  down  on  one’s  neighbors.” 

Tom  shoved  his  hand  into  his  back  hair.  44  I ain’t  so 
sure,  “ said  he  “ you  two  fellows  carried  me  off  my  legs  : 
I don’t  think  we  really  tried  one  sentence  fairly.  Are  you 
sure  you  remember  what  the  Doctor  said  to  you?” 

“Yes.  And  I’ll  swear  I couldn’t  make  out  one  of  my 
sentences  to-day.  No,  nor  ever  could.  I really  don’t 
remember,”  said  East,  speaking  slowly  and  impressively, 
“ to  have  come  across  one  Latin  or  Greek  sentence  this 
half,  that  I could  go  and  construe  by  the  light  of  nature. 
Whereby  I am  sure  Providence  intended  cribs  to  be 
used.” 

“ The  thing  to  find  out,”  said  Tom  meditatively,  “ is 
how  long  one  ought  to  grind  at  a sentence  without  look- 
ing at  the  crib.  Now  I think  if  one  fairly  looks  out  all  the 
words  one  don’t  know,  and  then  can’t  hit  it,  that’s  enough.” 

44  To  be  sure,  Tommy,”  said  East  demurely,  but  with  a 
merry  twinkle  in  his  eye.  44  Your  new  doctrine  too,  old 
fellow,”  added  he,  44  when  one  comes  to  think  of  it,  is  a 
cutting  at  the  root  of  all  school  morality.  You’ll  take 
away  mutual  help,  brotherly  love,  or  in  the  vulgar  tongue, 
giving  construes,  which  I hold  to  be  one  of  our  highest 
virtues.  For  how  can  you  distinguish  between  getting  a 
construe  from  another  boy,  and  using  a crib?  Hang  it, 
Tom,  if  you’re  going  to  deprive  all  our  school-fellows  of 
the  chance  of  exercising  Christian  benevolence  and  being 
good  Samaritans,  I shall  cut  the  concern.” 


MARRY  EAST'S  DELEMMAS  AND  DELIVERANCES.  239 

“ I wish  you  wouldn’t  joke  about  it,  Harry ; it’s  hard 
enough  to  see  one’s  way,  a precious  sight  harder  than  I 
thought  last  night.  But  I suppose  there’s  a use  and  an 
abuse  of  both,  and  one’ll  get  straight  enough  somehow. 
But  you  can’t  make  out  anyhow  that  one  has  a right  to 
use  old  vulgus-books  and  copy-books.” 

“ Hullo,  more  heresy ! how  fast  a fellow  goes  down 
hill  when  he  once  gets  his  head  before  his  legs.  Lis- 
ten to  me,  Tom.  Not  use  old  vulgus-books? — why,  you 
Goth ! ain’t  we  to  take  the  benefit  of  the  wisdom,  and  ad- 
mire and  use  the  work  of  past  generations?  Not  use  old 
copy-books  ! Why  you  might  as  well  say  we  ought  to  pull 
down  Westminster  Abbey,  and  put  up  a go-to-meeting-shop 
with  church  warden  windows  ; or  never  read  Shakespeare, 
but  only  Sheridan  Knowles.  Think  of  all  the  work  and 
labor  that  our  predecessors  have  bestowed  on  these  very 
books  ; and  are  we  to  make  their  work  of  no  value  ? ” 

“ I say,  Harry,  please  don’t  chaff ; I’m  really  serious.” 

“ And  then,  is  it  not  our  duty  to  consult  the  pleasure  of 
others  rather  than  our  own,  and  above  all  that  of  our  mas- 
ters ? Fancy  then  the  difference  to  them  in  looking  over 
a vulgus  which  has  been  carefully  touched  and  retouched 
by  themselves  and  others,  and  which  must  bring  them  a 
sort  of  dreamy  pleasure,  as  if  they’d  met  the  thought  or  ex- 
pression of  it  somewhere  or  another — before  they  were  born 
perhaps;  and  that  of  cutting  up,  and  making  picture- 
frames  round  all  your  and  my  false  quantities,  and  other 
monstrosities.  Why,  Tom,  you  wouldn’t  be  so  cruel  as 
never  to  let  old  Momus  hum  over  the  6 0 genus  humanum ,’ 
again,  and  then  look  up  doubtingly  through  his  spectacles, 
and  end  by  smiling  and  giving  three  extra  marks  for  it : 
just  for  old  sake’s  sake,  I suppose.” 

“ Well,  ’ said  Tom,  getting  up  in  something  as  like  a huff 
as  he  was  capable  of,  “ it’s  deuced  hard  that  when  a fellow’s 
really  trying  to  do  what  he  ought,  his  best  friends  ’ll  do 
nothing  but  chaff  him  and  try  to  put  him  down.”  And  he 
stuck  his  books  under  his  arm  and  his  hat  on  his  head,  pre- 
paratory to  rushing  out  into  the  quadrangle,  to  testify  with 
his  own  soul  of  the  faithlessness  of  friendships. 

“ Now  don’t  be  an  ass,  Tom,”  said  East,  catching  hold  of 
him,  “ you  know  me  well  enough  by  this  time ; my  bark’s 
worse  than  my  bite.  You  can’t  expect  to  ride  your  new 


240 


TOM  BROWN’S  SCHOOL-BAYS. 


crotchet  without  anybody’s  trying  to  stick  a nettle  under 
his  tail  and  make  him  kick  you  off  especially  as  we  shall 
all  have  to  go  on  foot  still.  B ut  now  sit  down  and  let’s  go 
over  it  again.  I’ll  be  as  serious  as  a judge.” 

Then  Tom  sat  himself  down  on  the  table,  and  waxed 
eloquent  about  all  the  righteousness  and  advantages  of  the 
new  plan,  as  was  his  wont  whenever  he  took  up  anything ; 
going  into  it  as  if  his  life  depended  upon  it,  and  sparing  iu 
abuse  which  he  could  think  of  of  the  opposite  method,  which 
he  denounced  as  ungentlemanly,  cowardly,  mean,  lying,  and 
no  one  knows  what  besides.  “ Very  cool  of  Tom  ” as  East 
thought,  but  didn’t  say,  “seeing  as  how  he  only  came  out  of 
Egypt  himself  last  night  at  bed  time.” 

“ Well,  Tom,”  said  he  at  last,  “ you  see,  when  you  and  I 
came  to  school  there  were  none  of  these  sort  of  notions. 
You  may  be  right — I dare  say  you  are.  Only  what  one  lias 
always  felt  about  the  masters  is,  that  it’s  a fair  trial  of  skill 
and  last  between  us  and  them — like  a match  at  football,  or 
a battle.  We’re  natural  enemies  in  school,  that’s  the  fact. 
We’ve  got  to  learn  so  much  Latin  and  Greek  and  do  so 
many  verses,  and  they’ve  got  to  see  that  we  do  it.  If  we 
can  slip  the  collar  and  do  so  much  less  without  getting 
caught,  that’s  one  to  us.  If  they  can  get  more  out  of  us,  or 
catch  us  shirking,  that’s  one  to  them.  All’s  fair  in  war  but 
lying.  If  I run  my  luck  against  theirs,  and  go  into  school 
without  looking  at  my  lessons,  and  don’t  get  called  up,  why 
am  I a snob  or  a sneak  ? I don’t  tell  the  master  I’ve  learned 
it.  He’s  got  to  find  out  whether  I have  or  not ; what’s 
he  paid  for  ? If  he  calls  me  up,  and  I get  floored,  he  makes 
me  write  it  out  in  Greek  and  English.  Very  good,  he’s 
caught  me,  and  I don’t  grumble.  I grant  you,  if  I go  and 
snivel  to  him,  and  tell  him  I’ve  really  tried  to  learn  it  but 
found  it  so  hard  without  a translation,  or  say  I’ve  had  a 
toothache,  or  any  humbug  of  that  kind,  I’m  a snob.  That’s 
my  school  morality ; it’s  served  me — and  you  too,  Tom,  for 
the  matter  of  that — -these  five  years.  And  it’s  all  clear  and 
fair,  no  mistake  about  it.  We  understand  it,  and  they  under- 
stand it,  and  I don’t  know  what  we  are  to  come  to  with 
any  other.” 

Tom  looked  at  him  pleased  and  a little  puzzled.  He  had 
never  heard  East  speak  his  mind  seriously  before,  and 
couldn’t  help  feeling  how  completely  he  had  hit  his  own 
theory  and  practice  up  to  that  time. 


HARRY  EASTS  DILEMMAS  AND  DELIVERANCES.  241 

“ Thank  you,  old  fellow,”  said  he.  44  You’re  a good  old 
brick  to  be  serious,  and  not  put  out  with  me.  I said  more 
than  I meant,  I dare  say,  only  you  see  I know  I’m  right : 
whatever  you  and  Gower  and  the  rest  do  I shall  hold  on — I 
must.  And  as  it’s  all  new  and  an  up-hill  game,  you  see, 
one  must  hit  hard  and  hold  on  tight  at  first.” 

“ Very  good,”  said  East;  44  hold  on  and  hit  away,  only 
don’t  hit  under  the  line.” 

“ But  I must  bring  you  over,  Harry,  or  I shan’t  be  comfort- 
able. Now,  I allow  all  you’ve  said.  We’ve  always  been 
honorable  enemies  with  the  masters.  We  found  a state  of 
war  when  we  came,  and  went  into  it  of  course.  Only  don’t 
you  think  things  are  altered  a good  deal  ? I don’t  feel  as  I 
used  to  the  masters.  They  seem  to  me  to  treat  one  quite 
differently.” 

44  Yes,  perhaps  they  do,”  said  East  ; “ there’s  a new  set, 
you  see,  mostly,  who  don’t  feel  sure  of  themselves  yet. 
They  don’t  want  to  fight  till  they  know  the  ground.” 
44 1 don’t  think  it’s  only  that,”  said  Tom.  44  And  then 
the  Doctor,  he  does  treat  one  so  openly  and  like  a gentle- 
man, and  as  if  one  was  working  with  him.” 

44  Well,  so  he  does,”  said  East;  44  he’s  a splendid  fellow, 
and  when  I get  into  the  sixth  I shall  act  accordingly.  Only 
you  know  he  has  nothing  to  do  with  our  lessons  now  except 
examining  us.  I say,  though,”  looking  at  his  watch,  44  it’s 
just  the  quarter.  Come  along.” 

As  they  walked  out  they  got  a message,  to  say,  44  that 
Arthur  was  just  starting  and  would  like  to  say  good-bye”  ; 
so  they  went  down  to  the  private  entrance  of  the  school- 
house,  and  found  an  open  carriage,  with  Arthur  propped 
up  with  pillows  in  it,  looking  already  better,  Tom  thought. 

They  jumped  up  on  to  the  steps  to  shake  hands  with 
him,  and  Tom  mumbled  thanks  for  the  presents  he  had 
found  in  his  study,  and  looked  round  anxiously  for  Arthur’s 
mother. 

East,  who  had  fallen  back  into  his  usual  humor,  looked 
quaintly  at  Arthur,  and  said — 

44  So  you’ve  been  at  it  again,  through  that  hot-headed  con- 
vert of  yours  there.  He’s  been  making  our  lives  a burden 
to  us  all  the  morning  about  using  cribs.  I shall  get  floored 
to  a certainty  at  second  lesson,  if  I’m  called  up.” 

Arthur  blushed  and  looked  down.  Tom  struck  in — 

16 


242 


TOM  BROWN’ S SCHOOL-DAYS. 


“ Oh,  it’s  all  right.  He’s  converted  already ; he  always 
comes  through  the  mud  after  us,  grumbling  and  sputtering.” 

The  clock  struck,  and  they  had  to  go  off  to  school,  wish- 
ing Arthur  a pleasant  holiday;  Tom  lingering  behind  a mo- 
ment to  send  his  thanks  and  love  to  Arthur’s  mother. 

Tom  renewed  the  discussion  after  second  lesson,  and 
succeeded  so  far  as  to  get  East  to  promise  to  give  the  new 
plan  a fair  trial. 

Encouraged  by  his  success,  in  the  evening,  when  they 
were  sitting  alone  in  the  large  study,  where  East  lived  now 
almost,  “ vice  Arthur  on  leave  ” after  examining  the  new 
fishing-rod,  which  both  pronounced  to  be  the  genuine 
article  (“  play  enough  to  throw  a midge  tied  on  a single 
hair  against  the  wind,  and  strength  enough  to  hold  a 
grampus”),  they  naturally  began  talking  about  Arthur. 
Tom,  who  was  still  bubbling  over  with  last  night's  scene, 
and  all  the  thoughts  of  the  last  week,  and  wanting  to  clinch 
and  fix  the  whole  in  his  own  mind,  which  he  could  never 
do  without  first  going  through  the  process  of  belaboring 
somebody  else  with  it  all,  suddenly  rushed  into  the  subject 
of  Arthur’s  illness,  and  what  he  had  said  about  death. 

East  had  given  him  the  desired  opening;  after  a serio- 
comic grumble,  u that  life  wasn’t  wort!  having  now  they 
were  tied  to  a young  beggar  who  was  always  raising  his 
standard ; ’ and  that  he,  East,  was  like  a prophet’s  donkey, 
who  was  obliged  to  struggle  on  after  the  donkey-man  who 
went  after  the  prophet ; that  he  had  none  of  the  pleasure 
of  starting  the  new  crotchets,  and  didn’t  half  understand 
them,  but  had  to  take  the  kicks  and  carry  the  luggage  as 
if  he  had  all  the  fun  ” — he  threw  his  legs  up  on  to  the  sofa, 
and  put  his  hands  behind  his  head,  and  said — 

“Well,  after  all,  he’s  the  most  wonderful  little  fellow  I 
ever  came  across.  There  ain’t  such  a meek,  humble  boy 
in  the  school.  Hanged  if  I don’t  think  now  really,  Tom, 
that  he  believes  himself  a much  worse  fellow  than  you  or 
I,  and  that  he  don’t  think  he  has  more  influence  in  the 
house  than  Dot  Bowles,  who  came  last  quarter,  and  ain’t 
ten  yet.  But  he  turns  you  and  me  round  his  little  finger, 
old  boy — there’s  no  mistake  about  that.”  And  East  nodded 
at  Tom  sagaciously. 

“Now  or  never !”  thought  Tom;  so  shutting  his  eyes 
and  hardening  his  heart,  he  went  straight  at  it,  repeating 


HARRY  EAST  8 I)IL  EMMA  S AND  DELIVERANCES.  243 


all  that  Arthur  had  said,  as  near  as  he  could  remember  it, 
in  the  very  words,  and  all  he  had  himself  thought.  The 
life  seemed  to  ooze  out  of  it  as  he  went  on,  and  several 
times  he  felt  inclined  to  stop,  give  it  all  up,  and  change 
the  subject.  But  somehow  he  was  borne  on  ; he  had  a 
necessity  upon  him  to  speak  it  all  out  and  did  so.  At  the 
end  he  looked  at  East  with  some  anxiety,  and  was  delight- 
ed to  see  that  that  young  gentleman  was  thoughtful  and 
attentive.  The  fact  is  that  in  the  stage  of  his  inner  life  at 
which  Tom  had  lately  arrived,  his  intimacy  with  and 
friendship  for  East  could  not  have  lasted  if  he  had  not 
made  him  aware  of,  and  a sharer  in,  the  thoughts  that 
were  beginning  to  exercise  him.  Nor  indeed  could  the 
friendship  have  lasted  if  East  had  shown  no  sympathy 
with  these  thoughts ; so  that  it  was  a great  relief  to  have 
unbosomed  himself,  and  to  have  found  that  his  friend  could 
listen. 

Tom  had  always  had  a sort  of  instinct  that  East’s  levity 
was  only  skin-deep  ; and  this  instinct  was  a true  one. 
East  had  no  want  of  reverence  for  anything  he  felt  to  be 
real:  but  his  was  one  of  those  natures  that  burst  into  what 
is  generally  called  recklessness  and  impiety  the  moment 
they  feel  that  anything  is  being  poured  upon  them  for  their 
good,  which  does  not  come  home  to  their  inborn  sense  of 
right,  or  which  appeals  to  anything  like  self-interest  in 
them.  Daring  and  honest  by  nature,  and  outspoken  to  an 
extent  which  alarmed  all  respectabilities,  with  a constant 
fund  of  animal  health  and  spirits  which  he  did  not  feel 
bound  to  curb  in  any  way,  he  had  gained  for  himself  with 
the  steady  part  of  the  school  (including  as  well  those  who 
wished  to  appear  steady  as  those  who  really  were  so)  the 
character  of  a boy  whom  it  would  be  dangerous  to  be 
intimate  with ; while  his  own  hatred  of  everything  cruel, 
or  underhand,  or  false,  and  his  hearty  respect  for  what  he 
could  see  to  be  good  and  true,  kept  off  the  rest. 

Tom,  besides  being  very  like  East  in  many  points  of 
character,  had  largely  developed  in  his  composition  the 
capacity  for  taking  the  weakest  side.  This  is  not  putting 
it  strongly  enough ; it  was  a necessity  with  him ; he  couldn’t 
help  it  any  more  than  he  could  eating  or  drinking.  He 
could  never  play  on  the  strongest  side  with  any  heart  at 
foot-ball  or  cricket,  and  was  sure  to  make  friends  with  any 
boy  who  was  unpopular  or  down  on  his  luck. 


£4  4 


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Now  though  East  was  not  what  is  generally  called  unpon- 
ular.  Tom  felt  more  and  more  every  day,  as  their  char- 
acters developed,  that  he  stood  alone,  and  did  not  make 
friends  among  their  contemporaries,  and  therefore  sought 
him  out.  Tom  was  himself  much  more  popular,  for  his 
power  of  detecting  humbug  was  much  less  acute,  and  his 
instincts  were  much  more  sociable.  He  was  at  this  period 
of  his  life,  too,  largely  given  to  taking  people  for  what  they 
gave  themselves  out  to  be ; but  his  singleness  of  heart, 
fearlessness  and  honesty  were  just  what  East  appreciated, 
and  thus  the  two  had  been  drawn  into  greater  intimacy. 

This  intimacy  had  not  been  interrupted  by  Tom’s  guardi- 
anship of  Arthur. 

East  had  often,  as  has  been  said,  joined  them  in  reading 
the  Bible ; but  their  discussions  had  almost  always  turned 
upon  the  characters  of  the  men  and  women  of  whom  they 
read,  and  not  become  personal  to  themselves.  In  fact,  the 
two  had  shrunk  from  personal  religious  discussion,  not 
knowing  how  it  might  end;  and  fearful  of  risking  a friend- 
ship very  dear  to  both,  and  which  they  felt  somehow, 
without  quite  knowing  why,  would  never  be  the  same,  but 
either  tenfold  stronger  or  sapped  at  its  foundation,  after 
such  a communing  together. 

What  a bother  all  this  explaining  is ! I wish  we  could 
get  on  without  it.  But  we  can’t.  However,  you’ll  all 
find,  if  you  haven’t  found  it  out  already,  that  a time  comes 
in  every  human  friendship,  when  you  must  go  down  into 
the  depths  of  yourself  and  lay  bare  what  is  there  to  your 
friend,  and  wait  in  fear  for  his  answer.  A few  moments 
may  do  it;  and  it  may  be  (most  likely  will  be,  as  you  are 
English  boys)  that  you  never  do  it  but  once.  But  done  it 
must  be,  if  the  friendship  is  to  be  worth  the  name.  You 
must  find  what  is  there,  at  the  very  root  and  bottom  of  one 
another’s  hearts ; and  if  you  are  at  once  there,  nothing  on 
earth  can,  or  at  least  ought  to  sunder  you. 

East  had  remained  lying  down  until  Tom  finished  speak- 
ing, as  if  fearing  to  interrupt  him ; he  now  sat  up  at  the 
table,  and  leaned  his  head  on  one  hand,  taking  up  a pencil 
with  the  other,  and  working  little  holes  with  it  in  the  table- 
cover.  After  a bit  he  looked  up,  stopped  the  pencil,  and 
said,  “ Thank  you  very  much,  old  fellow ; there’s  no  other 
boy  in  the  house  would  have  done  it  for  me  but  you  or 


HARRY  EASTS  DILEMMAS  AND  DELIVERANCES.  245 

Arthur.  I can  see  well  enough,”  he  went  on  after  a pause, 
“ all  the  best  big  fellows  look  on  me  with  suspicion  ; they 
think  I’m  a devil-may-care,  reckless  young  scamp.  So  I 
am — eleven  hours  out  of  twelve — but  not  the  twelfth. 
Then  all  of  our  contemporaries  worth  knowing  follow  suit, 
of  course ; we’re  very  good  friends  at  games  and  all  that, 
but  not  a soul  of  them  but  you  and  Arthur  ever  tried  to 
break  through  the  crust,  and  see  whether  there  was  any- 
thing at  the  bottom  of  me  ; and  then  the  bad  ones  I won’t 
stand,  and  they  know  that.” 

“ Don’t  you  think  that’s  half  fancy,  Harry?” 

“Not  a bit  of  it,”  said  East  bitterly,  pegging  away  with 
his  pencil.  “I  see  it  all  plain  enough.  Bless  you,  you 
think  everybody’s  as  straightforward  and  kind-hearted  as 
you  are.” 

“ Well,  but  what’s  the  reason  of  it?  There  must  be  a 
reason.  You  can  play  all  the  games  as  well  as  any  one, 
and  sing  the  best  songs,  and  are  the  best  company  in  the 
house.  You  fancy  you’re  not  liked,  Harry.  It’s  all 
fancy.” 

“ I only  wish  it  was,  Tom.  I know  I could  be  popular 
enough  with  all  the  bad  ones,  but  that  I won’t  have,  and 
the  good  ones  won’t  have  me.” 

“ Why  not  ? ” persisted  Tom  ; “ you  don’t  drink  or  swear, 
“or  get  out  at  night;  you  never  bully,  or  cheat  at  lessons. 
If  you  only  showed  you  liked  it,  you’d  have  all  the  best  fel- 
lows in  the  house  running  after  you.” 

“ Not  I,”  said  East.  Then  with  an  effort  he  went  on, 
“ I’ll  tell  you  what  it  is.  I never  stop  the  sacrament.  I can 
see,  from  the  Doctor  downward,  how  that  tells  against 
me.” 

“Yes,  I’ve  seen  that,”  said  Tom,  “and  I’ve  been  very 
sorry  for  it,  and  Arthur  and  I have  talked  about  it.  I’ve 
often  thought  of  speaking  to  you,  but  it’s  so  hard  to  begin 
on  such  subjects.  I’m  very  glad  you’ve  opened  it.  Now, 
why  don’t  you?  ” 

“I’ve  never  been  confirmed,”  said  East. 

“Not  been  confirmed!”  said  Tom  in  astonishment.  “I 
never  thought  of  that.  Why  weren’t  you  confirmed  with 
the  rest  of  us  nearly  three  years  ago  ? I always  thought 
you’d  been  confirmed  at  home.” 

“ No,”  answered  East  sorrowfully;  “you  see  this  was 


246 


TOM  BBOWN'S  SCHOOL-BAYS . 


how  it  happened.  Last  confirmation  was  soon  after  Arthur 
came,  and  you  were  so  taken  up  with  him,  I hardly  saw 
either  of  you.  Well,  when  the  Doctor  sent  round  for  us 
about  it,  I was  living  mostly  with  Green’s  set — you  know 
the  sort.  They  all  went  in — I dare  say  it  was  all  right, 
and  they  got  good  by  it ; I don’t  want  to  judge  them. 
Only  all  I could  see  of  their  reasons  drove  me  just  the  other 
way.  ’Twas  4 because  the  Doctor  liked  it’;  4 no  boy  got 
on  who  didn’t  stay  the  sacrament  ’;  4 it  was  the  correct 
thing,’  in  fact,  like  having  a good  hat  to  wear  on  Sundays. 
I couldn’t  stand  it.  I didn’t  feel  that  I wanted  to  lead  a 
different  life,  I was  very  well  content  as  I was,  and  I wasn’t 
going  to  sham  religious  to  curry  favor  with  the  Doctor  or 
any  one  else.” 

East  stopped  speaking,  and  pegged  away  more  diligently 
than  ever  with  his  pencil.  Tom  was  ready  to  cry.  He  felt 
Half  sorry  at  first  that  he  had  been  confirmed  himself.  He 
seemed  to  have  deserted  his  earliest  friend,  to  have  left  him 
by  himself  at  his  worst  need  for  those  long  years.  He  got 
up  and  went  and  sat  by  East  and  put  his  arm  over  his 
shoulder. 

44  Dear  old  boy,”  he  said,  “how  careless  and  selfish  I’ve 
been,  But  why  didn’t  you  come  and  talk  to  Arthur  and 
me  ? ” 

44  I wish  to  heaven  I had,”  said  East,  44  but  I was  a fool. 
It’s  too  late  talking  of  it  now.” 

44  Why  too  late  ? You  want  to  be  confirmed  now,  don’t 
you?” 

“ I think  so,”  said  East.  44  I’ve  thought  about  it  a good 
deal ; only  often  I fancy  I must  be  changing,  because  I see 
it’s  to  do  me  good  here,  just  what  stopped  me  last  time. 
And  then  I go  back  again.” 

44  I’ll  tell  you  now  how  ’twas  with  me,”  said  Tom  warm- 
ly. 44  If  it  hadn’t  been  for  Arthur,  I should  have  done  just 
as  you  did.  I hope  I should.  I honor  you  for  it.  But 
then  he  made  it  out  just  as  if  it  was  taking  the  weak  side 
before  all  the  world — going  in  once  for  all  against  every- 
thing that’s  strong  and  rich  and  proud  and  respectable,  a 
little  band  of  brothers  against  the  whole  world.  And  the 
Doctor  seemed  to  say  so  too,  only  he  said  a great  deal 
more.” 

44  Ah ! ” groaned  East,  “ but  there  again,  that’s  just  an- 


HARRY  EASTS  DILEMMAS  AND  DELIVERANCES.  247 

other  of  my  difficulties  whenever  I think  about  the  matter. 
I don’t  want  to  be  one  of  your  saints,  one  of  your  elect, 
whatever  the  right  phrase  is.  My  sympathies  are  all  the 
other  way  : with  the  many,  the  poor  devils  who  run  about 
the  streets  and  don’t  go  to  church.  Don’t  stare,  Tom; 
mind,  I’m  telling  you  all  that’s  in  my  heart — as  far  as  I 
know  it — but  it’s  all  a muddle.  You  must  be  gentle  with 
me  if  you  want  to  land  me.  Now  I’ve  seen  a deal  of  this 
sort  of  religion ; I was  bred  up  in  it,  and  I can’t  stand  it. 
If  nineteen-twentieths  of  the  world  are  to  be  left  to  uncov- 
enanted mercies,  and  that  sort  of  thing,  which  means  in 
plain  English  to  go  to  hell,  and  the  other  twentieths  are  to 
rejoice  at  it  all,  why- ” 

44  Oh  ! but,  Harry,  they  ain’t,  they  don’t,”  broke  in  Tom, 
really  shocked.  44  Oh,  I wish  Arthur  hadn’t  gone ! I’m 
such  a fool  about  these  things.  But  it’s  all  you  want 
too,  East ; it  is  indeed.  It  cuts  both  ways  somehow,  being 
confirmed  and  taking  the  sacrament.  It  makes  you  feel  on 
the  side  of  all  the  good  and  all  the  bad  too,  of  everybody  in 
the  world.  Only  there’s  some  great  dark  strong  power, 
which  is  crushing  you  and  everybody  else.  That’s  what 
Christ  conquered,  and  we’ve  got  to  fight.  What  a fool  I 
am  ! I can’t  explain.  If  Arthur  were  only  here  ! ” 

44 1 begin  to  get  a glimmering  of  what  you  mean,”  said 
East. 

44 1 say  now,”  said  Tom  eagerly,  44  do  you  remember  how 
we  both  hated  Flashman?” 

44  Of  course  I do,”  said  East ; 44 1 hate  him  still.  What 
then  ? ” 

44  Well,  when  I came  to  take  the  sacrament,  I had  a great 
struggle  about  that.  I tried  to  put  him  out  of  my  head  ; 
and  when  I couldn’t  do  that,  I tried  to  think  of  him  as  evil, 
as  something  that  the  Lord  who  was  loving  me  hated,  and 
which  I might  hate  too.  But  it  wouldn’t  do.  I broke  down  : 
I believe  Christ  himself  broke  me  down ; and  when  the 
Doctor  gave  me  the  bread  and  wine,  and  leaned  over  me 
praying,  I prayed  for  poor  Flashman,  as  if  it  had  been  you 
or  Arthur.” 

East  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  on  the  table.  Tom  could 
feel  the  table  tremble.  At  last  he  looked  up,  44  Thank  you 
again,  Tom,”  said  he;  44  you  don’t  know  what  you  may  have 
done  for  me  to-night.  I think  I see  now  how  the  right  sort 
of  sympathy  with  poor  devils  is  got  at*” 


248 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  BAYS. 


“ And  you’ll  stop  to  the  sacrament  next  time,  wont’  .you  ?* 
said  Tom. 

“ Can  I,  before  I’m  confirmed  ? ” 

“ Go  and  ask  the  Doctor.” 

“I  will.” 

That  very  night  after  prayers,  East  followed  the  Doctor 
and  the  old  Verger  bearing  the  candle,  up-stairs.  Tom 
watched,  and  saw  the  Doctor  turn  round  when  he  heard 
footsteps  following  him  closer  than  usual,  and  say,  “ Hah, 
East ! Do  you  want  to  speak  with  me,  my  man?  ” 

“ If  you  please,  sir ; ” and  the  private  door  closed  and 
Tom  went  to  his  study  in  a state  of  great  trouble  of  mind. 

It  was  almost  an  hour  before  East  came  back ; then  he 
rushed  in  breathless. 

“ W ell,  it’s  all  right,”  he  shouted,  seizing  Tom  by  the 
hand.  “ I feel  as  if  a ton-weight  were  off  my  mind.” 

“Hurra,”  said  Tom.  “I  knew  it  would  be  ; but  tell  us 
all  about  it  ? ” 

“Well,  I just  told  him  all  about  it.  You  can’t  think  how 
kind  and  gentle  he  was,  the  great  grim  man,  whom  I’ve 
feared  more  than  anybody  on  earth.  When  I stuck,  he 
lifted  me,  just  as  if  I had  been  a little  child.  And  he 
seemed  to  know  all  I’d  felt,  and  to  have  gone  through  it 
all.  And  I burst  out  crying — more  than  I’ve  done  this  five 
years ; and  he  sat  down  by  me,  and  stroked  my  head ; and 
I went  blundering  on,  and  told  him  all ; much  worse  things 
than  I’ve  told  you.  And  he  wasn’t  shocked  a bit,  and  didn’t 
snub  me,  or  tell  me  I was  a fool,  and  it  was  all  nothing  but 
pride  or  wickedness,  though  I dare  say  it  was.  And  he 
didn’t  tell  me  not  to  follow  out  my  thoughts,  and  he  didn’t 
give  me  any  cut-and-dried  explanation.  But  when  I’d  done 
he  just  talked  a bit — I can  hardly  remember  what  he  said 
yet ; but  it  seemed  to  spread  round  me  like  healing,  and 
strength,  and  light ; and  to  bear  me  up,  and  plant  me  on  a 
rock,  where  I could  hold  my  footing,  and  fight  for  myself. 
I don’t  know  what  to  do,  I feel  so  happy.  And  it’s  all 
owing  to  you,  dear  old  boy ! ” and  he  seized  Tom’s  hand 
again. 

“ And  you’re  to  come  to  the  communion  ? ” said  Tom. 

“Yes,  and  to  be  confirmed  in  the  holidays.” 

Tom’s  delight  was  as  great  as  his  friend’s.  But  he  hadn’t 
yet  had  out  all  his  own  talk  and  was  bent  on  improving  the 


TOM  BROWN' 8 LAST  MATCH. 


249 


occasion : so  he  proceeded  to  propound  Arthur’s  theory 
about  not  being  sorry  for  his  friends’  deaths,  which  he  had 
hitherto  kept  in  the  background,  and  by  which  he  was 
much  exercised ; for  he  didn’t  feel  it  honest  to  take  what 
pleased  him  and  throw  over  the  rest,  and  was  trying  vigor- 
ously to  persuade  himself  that  he  should  like  all  his  best 
friends  to  die  off-hand. 

But  East’s  powers  of  remaining  serious  were  exhausted, 
and  in  five  minutes  he  was  saying  the  most  ridiculous  things 
he  could  think  of,  till  Tom  was  almost  getting  angry  again. 

Despite  of  himself,  however,  he  couldn’t  help  laughing 
and  giving  it  up,  when  East  appealed  to  him  with  “Well, 
Tom,  you  ain’t  going  to  punch  my  head,  I hope,  because  I 
insist  upon  being  sorry  when  you  got  to  earth  ? ” 

And  so  their  talk  finished  for  that  time,  and  they  tried 
to  learn  first  lesson ; with  very  poor  success,  as  appeared 
next  morning,  when  they  were  called  up  and  narrowly  es- 
caped being  floored,  which  ill-luck,  however,  did  not  sit 
heavily  on  either  of  their  souls. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

TOM  BROWN’S  LAST  MATCH. 

“ Heaven  grant  the  manlier  hearts,  that  timely,  ere 
Youth  fly,  with  life’s  real  tempest  would  be  coping; 

The  fruit  of  dreamy  hoping 
Is,  waking,  blank  despair. 

Clough.  Ambarvalia. 

The  curtain  now  rises  upon  the  last  act  of  our  little 
drama — for  hard-hearted  publishers  warn  me  that  a single 
volume  must  of  necessity  have  an  end.  Well,  well ! the 
pleasantest  things  must  come  to  an  end.  I little  thought 
last  long  vacation,  when  I began  these  pages  to  help  while 
away  some  spare  time  at  a watering-place,  how  vividly 
many  an  old  scene,  which  had  lain  hid  away  for  years  in 
some  dusty  old  corner  of  my  brain,  would  come  back  again 
and  stand  before  me  as  clear  and  bright  as  if  it  had  hap- 
pened yesterday.  The  book  has  been  a most  grateful  task 
to  me,  and  I only  hope  that  all  you,  my  dear  young 
friends,  who  read  it  (friends  assuredly  you  must  be,  if  you 
get  as  far  as  this),  will  be  half  as  sorry  to  come  to  the  last 
stage  as  I am. 


TOM  BROWN* 8 SCHOOL- J)  A YS. 


250 

Not  but  what  there  has  been  a solemn  and  a sad  side  to 
it.  As  the  old  scenes  became  living,  and  the  actors  in  them 
became  living  too,  many  a grave  in  the  Crimea  and  distant 
India,  as  well  as  in  the  quiet  churchyards  of  our  dear  old 
country,  seemed  to  open  and  send  forth  their  dead,  and 
their  voices  and  looks  and  ways  were  again  in  one’s  ears 
and  eyes,  as  i:i  the  old  school-days.  But  this  was  not  sad  ; 
how  should  it  be,  if  we  believe  as  our  Lord  has  taught  i.s? 
How  should  it  be,  when,  one  more  turn  of  the  wheel,  and 
we  shall  be  by  their  sides  again,  learning  from  them  again, 
perhaps,  as  we  did  when  we  were  new  boys  ? 

Then  there  were  others  of  the  old  faces  so  dear  to  us 
once,  who  had  somehow  or  another  just  gone  clean  out  of 
sight — are  they  dead  or  living  ? We  know  not,  but  the 
thought  of  them  brings  no  sadness  with  it.  Wherever 
they  are,  we  can  well  believe  they  are  doing  God’s  work 
and  getting  His  wages. 

But  are  there  not  some,  whom  we  still  see  sometimes  in 
the  streets,  whose  haunts  and  homes  we  know,  whom  we 
could  probably  find  almost  any  day  in  the  week  if  we  were 
set  to  do  it,  yet  from  whom  we  are  really  farther  than  we 
are  from  the  dead,  and  from  those  who  have  gone  out  of 
our  ken  ? Yes,  there  are  and  must  be  such ; and  therein  lies 
the  sadness  of  old  school  memories.  Yet  of  these,  our  old 
comrades,  from  whom  more  than  time  and  space  can  separate 
us,  there  are  some  by  whose  side  we  can  feel  sure  that  we 
shall  stand  again  when  time  shall  be  no  more.  We  may 
think  of  one  another  now  as  dangerous  fanatics  or  narrow 
bigots,  with  whom  no  truce  is  possible,  from  whom  we 
shall  only  sever  more  and  more  to  the  end  of  our  lives, 
whom  it  would  be  our  respective  duties  to  imprison  or 
hang,  if  we  had  the  power.  We  must  go  our  way,  and  they 
theirs,  as  long  as  flesh  and  spirit  hold  together  ; but  let  our 
own  Rugby  poet  speak  words  of  healing  for  this  trial  ; — 

“ To  veer  how  vain  ! on,  onward  strain, 

Brave  barks  ! in  light,  in  darkness  too; 

Through  winds  and  tides  one  compass  guides. 

To  that,  and  your  own  selves,  be  true. 

“ But,  O blithe  breeze!  and  O great  seas! 

Though  ne’er  that  earliest  parting  past, 

On  your  wide  plain  they  join  again, 

Together  lead  them  home  at  last. 


TOM  BROWN’S  LAST  MATCH . 


251 


“ One  port,  raethought,  alike  they  sought, 

One  purpose  hold  where’er  they  fare. 

O bounding  breeze  ! O rushing  seas  ! 

At  last,  at  last,  unite  them  there.  ” * 

This  is  not  mere  longing,  it  is  prophecy.  So  over  these 
too,  our  old  friends  who  are  friends  no  more,  we  sorrow  not 
as  men  without  hope.  It  is  only  for  those  who  seem  to  us 
to  have  lost  compass  and  purpose,  and  to  be  driven  help- 
lessly on  rocks  and  quicksands ; whose  lives  are  spent  in 
the  service  of  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil ; for  self 
alone,  and  not  for  their  fellow-men,  their  country,  or  their 
God,  that  we  must  mourn  and  pray  without  sure  hope 
and  without  light ; trusting  only  that  He,  in  whose  hands 
they  as  well  as  we  are,  who  has  died  for  them  as  well  as 
for  us,  who  sees  all  His  creatures 

“ With  larger,  other  eyes  than  ours, 

To  make  allowance  for  us  all,” 

will,  in  His  own  way  and  at  His  own  time,  lead  them  also 
home 

* * * * * * 

Another  two  years  have  passed,  and  it  is  again  the  end 
of  the  summer  half-year  at  Rugby  ; in  fact,  the  school  has 
broken  up.  The  fifth-form  examinations  were  over  last 
week  and  upon  them  have  followed  the  speeches  and  the 
sixth-form  examinations  for  exhibitions ; and  they  too  are 
over  now.  The  boys  have  gone  to  a:l  the  winds  of  heaven, 
except  the  town  boys  and  the  eleven,  and  the  few  en- 
thusiasts besides  who  have  asked  leave  to  stay  in  their 
houses  to  see  the  result  of  the  cricket  matches.  For  this 
year  the  Wellesburn  return  match  and  the  Marylebone 
match  are  played  at  Rugby,  to  the  great  delight  of  the 
town  and  neighborhood,  and  the  sorrow  of  those  aspiring 
young  cricketers  who  have  been  reckoning  for  the  last 
three  months  on  showing  off  at  Lord’s  ground. 

The  Doctor  started  for  the  Lakes  yesterday  morning, 
after  an  interview  with  the  captain  of  the  eleven,  in  the 
presence  cf  Thomas,  at  which  he  arranged  in  what  school 
the  cricket  dinners  were  to  be,  and  all  other  matters 
necessary  for  the  satisfactory  carrying  out  of  the  festivities  ; 


* Clough.  Ambarvalia 


252 


TOM  BROWN9 8 SCHOOL-DAYS. 


and  warned  them  as  to  keeping  all  spirituous  liquors  out 
of  the  close,  and  having  the  gates  closed  by  nine  o’clock. 

The  Wellesburn  match  was  played  out  with  great  success 
yesterday,  the  school  winning  by  three  wickets : and  to- 
day the  great  event  of  the  cricketing  year,  the  Marylebone 
match,  is  being  played.  What  a match  it  has  been  ! The 
London  eleven  came  down  by  an  afternoon  train  yesterday, 
in  time  to  see  the  end  of  the  Wellesburn  match  ; and  as 
soon  as  it  was  over,  their  leading  men  and  umpire  inspected 
the  ground,  criticising  it  rather  unmercifully.  The  captain 
of  the  school  eleven,  and  one  or  two  others,  who  had 
played  the  Lord’s  match  before,  and  knew  old  Mr.  Aislabie 
and  several  of  the  Lord’s  men,  accompanied  them;  while 
the  rest  of  the  eleven  looked  on  from  under  the  Three 
Trees  with  admiring  eyes,  and  asked  one  another  the 
names  of  the  illustrious  strangers,  and  recounted  how 
many  runs  each  of  them  had  made  in  the  late  matches  in 
Bell’s  Life.  They  looked  such  hard-bitten,  wiry,  whiskered 
fellows,  that  their  young  adversaries  felt  rather  desponding 
as  to  the  result  of  the  morrow’s  match.  The  ground  was 
at  last  chosen,  and  two  men  set  to  work  upon  it  to  water 
and  roll;  and  then,  there  being  yet  some  half  hour  of  day- 
light, some  one  had  suggested  a dance  on  the  turf.  The 
close  was  half  full  of  citizens  and  their  families,  and  the 
idea  was  hailed  with  enthusiasm.  The  cornopean-player 
was  still  on  the  ground  ; and  in  five  minutes  the  eleven  and 
half  a dozen  of  the  Wellesburn  and  Marylebone  men  got 
partners  somehow  or  another,  and  a merry  country  dance 
was  going  on,  to  which  every  one  flocked,  and  new  couples 
joined  in  every  minute,  till  there  were  a hundred  of  them 
going  down  the  middle  and  up  again — and  the  long  line 
of  school  buildings  looked  gravely  down  on  them,  every 
window  glowing  with  the  last  rays  of  the  western  sun,  and 
the  rooks  clanged  about  in  the  tops  of  the  old  elms,  greatly 
excited,  and  resolved  on  having  their  country-dance  too, 
and  the  great  flag  flapped  lazily  in  the  gentle  western 
breeze.  Altogether  it  was  a sight  which  would  have  made 
glad  the  heart  of  our  brave  old  founder,  Lawrence  Sheriff, 
if  he  were  half  as  good  a fellow  as  I take  him  to  have  been. 
It  was  a cheerful  sight  to  see  ; but  what  made  it  so  valuable 
in  the  sight  of  the  Captain  of  the  school  eleven  was,  that 
he  there  saw  his  young  hands  shaking  off  their  shyness  and 


TOM  BBOW^'z  luisT  MjlTCH' 


253 


awe  of  the  Lord’s  men,  as  they  crossed  hands  and  capered 
about  on  the  grass  together ; for  the  strangers  entered  into 
it  all,  and  threw  away  their  cigars,  and  danced  and  shouted 
like  boys  : while  old  Mr.  Aislabie  stood  by  looking  on  in 
his  white  hat,  leaning  on  a bat,  in  benevolent  enjoyment. 
“This  hop  will  be  worth  thirty  runs  to  us  to-morrow,  and 
will  be  the  making  of  Haggles  and  Johnson,”  thinks  the 
young  leader,  as  he  revolves  many  things  in  his  mind, 
standing  by  the  side  of  Mr.  Aislabie,  whom  he  will  not 
leave  for  a minute,  for  he  feels  that  the  character  of  the 
school  for  courtesy  is  resting  on  his  shoulders. 

But  when  a quarter  to  nine  struck,  and  he  saw  old 
Thomas  beginning  to  fidget  about  with  the  keys  in  his 
hand,  he  thought  of  the  Doctor’s  parting  monition,  and 
stopped  the  cornopean  at  once,  notwithstanding  the  loud- 
voiced  remonstrances  from  all  sides,  and  the  crowd  scat- 
tered away  from  the  close,  the  eleven  all  going  into  the 
school-house,  where  supper  and  beds  were  provided  for 
them  by  the  Doctor’s  order. 

Deep  had  been  the  consultations  at  supper  as  to  the 
order  of  going  in,  who  should  bowl  the  first  over,  whether 
it  would  be  best  to  play  steady  or  freely;  and  the  youngest 
hands  declared  that  they  shouldn't  be  a bit  nervous,  and 
praised  their  opponents  as  the  jolliest  fellows  in  the  world, 
except  perhaps  their  old  friends  the  Wellesburn  men. 
How  far  a little  good-nature  from  their  elders  will  go  with 
the  right  sort  of  boys  ! 

The  morning  had  dawned  bright  and  warm,  to  the  in- 
tense relief  of  many  an  anxious  youngster,  up  betimes  to 
mark  the  signs  of  the  weather.  The  eleven  went  down  in 
a body  before  breakfast  for  a plunge  in  the  cold  bath  in 
the  corner  of  the  close.  The  ground  was  in  splendid  order, 
and  soon  after  ten  o’clock,  before  spectators  had  arrived, 
all  was  ready,  and  two  of  the  Lord’s  men  took  their  places 
at  the  wicket,  the  school,  with  the  usual  liberality  of  young 
hands,  having  put  their  adversaries  in  first.  Old  Bailey 
stepped  up  to  the  wicket  and  called  play,  and  the  match 
has  begun. 

* * * & * # 

“ Oh,  well  bowled ! well  bowled,  Johnson  !”  cries  the 
captain,  catching  up  the  ball  and  sending  it  high  above  the 
rook  trees,  while  the  third  Marylebone  man  walks  away 


254 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 

from  the  wicket,  and  old  Bailey  gravely  sets  up  the  middle 
stump  again  and  puts  the  bails  on. 

44  How  many  runs  ? ” Away  scamper  three  boys  to  the 
scoring-table,  and  are  back  again  in  a minute  among  the 
rest  of  the  eleven,  who  are  collected  together  in  a knot  be- 
tween wicket.  “ Only  eighteen  runs,  and  three  wickets 
down ! ” 44  Huzza,  for  old  Rugby  ! ” sings  out  Jack 

Raggles  the  long-stop,  toughest  and  burliest  of  boys  com- 
monly called  44  S wiper  Jack  ! ” and  forthwith  stands  on  his 
head,  and  brandishes  his  legs  in  the  air  in  triumph,  till  the 
next  boy  catches  hold  of  his  heels,  and  throws  him  over 
on  to  his  back. 

44  Steady  there,  don’t  be  such  an  ass,  Jack,”  says  the 
captain ; 44  we  haven’t  got  the  best  wicket  yet.  Ah,  look 
out  now  at  cover-point,”  adds  he,  as  he  sees  a long- 
armed,  bare-headed,  slashing-looking  player  coming  to  the 
wicket.  44 And,  Jack,  mind  your  hits;  he  steals  more 
runs  than  any  man  in  England.” 

And  they  all  find  that  they  have  got  their  work  to  do 
now ; the  new-comer’s  off-hitting  is  tremendous,  and  his 
running  like  a flash  of  lightning.  He  is  never  in  his 
ground,  except  when  his  wicket  is  down.  Nothing  in  the 
whole  game  so  trying  to  boys : he  has  stolen  three  byes  in 
the  first  ten  minutes,  and  Jack  Raggles  is  furious,  and 
begins  throwing  over  savagely  to  the  further  wicket,  until 
he  is  sternly  stopped  by  the  captain.  It  is  all  that  young 
gentleman  can  do  to  keep  his  team  steady,  but  he  knows 
that  everything  depends  on  it,  and  faces  his  work  bravely. 
The  score  creeps  up  to  fifty,  the  boys  begin  to  look  blank, 
and  the  spectators,  who  are  now  mustering  strong,  are  very 
silent.  The  ball  flies  off  his  bat  to  all  parts  of  the  field, 
and  he  gives  no  rest  and  no  catches  to  any  one.  But 
cricket  is  full  of  glorious  chances,  and  the  goddess  who  pre- 
sides over  it  loves  to  bring  down  the  most  skillful  players. 
Johnson,  the  young  bowler,  is  getting  wild,  and  bowls  a 
ball  almost  wide  to  the  off ; the  batter  steps  out  and  cuts 
it  beautifully  to  where  cover-point  is  standing  very  deep, 
in  fact  almost  off  the  ground.  The  ball  comes  skimming 
and  twisting  along  about  three  feet  from  the  ground  ; he 
rushes  at  it,  and  it  sticks  somehow  or  other  in  the  fingers 
of  his  left  hand,  to  the  utter  astonishment  of  himself  and 
the  whole  field.  Such  a catch  hasn’t  been  made  in  the 


TOM  BROWN'S  LAST  MATCH. 


255 


close  for  years,  and  the  cheering  is  maddening.  “ Pretty 
cricket/’  says  the  captain,  throwing  himself  on  the  ground 
by  the  deserted  wicket  with  a long  breath ; he  feels  that  a 
crisis  has  passed. 

I wish  I had  space  to  describe  the  whole  match ; how 
the  captain  stumped  the  next  man  off  a leg-shooter,  and 
bowled  slow  lobs  to  old  Mr.  Aislabie,  who  came  in  for  the 
last  wicket.  How  the  Lord’s  men  were  out  by  half-past 
twelve  o’clock  for  ninety-eight  runs.  How  the  captain  of 
the  school  eleven  went  in  first  to  give  his  men  pluck,  and 
scored  twenty-five  in  beautiful  style  ; how  Rugby  was  only 
four  behind  in  the  first  innings.  What  a glorious  dinner 
they  had  in  the  fourth-form  school,  and  how  the  cover- 
point  hitter  sang  the  most  topping  comic  songs,  and  old 
Mr.  Aislabie  made  the  best  speeches  that  ever  were  heard, 
afterward.  But  I haven’t  space,  that’s  the  fact,  and  so 
you  must  fancy  it  all,  and  carry  yourselves  on  to  half-past 
seven  o’clock,  when  the  school  are  again  in,  with  five 
wickets  down  and  only  thirty-two  runs  to  make  to  win. 
The  Marylebone  men  played  carelessly  in  their  second 
innings,  but  they  are  working  like  horses  now  to  save  the 
match. 

There  is  much  healthy,  hearty,  happy  life  scattered  up 
and  down  the  close ; but  the  group  to  which  I beg  to  call 
your  especial  attention  is  there,  on  the  slope  of  the  island, 
which  looks  toward  the  cricket-ground.  It  consists  of 
three  figures  ; two  are  seated  on  a bench,  and  one  on  the 
ground  at  their  feet.  The  first,  a tall,  slight,  and  rather 
gaunt  man  with  a bushy  eyebrow  and  a dry  humorous 
smile,  is  evidently  a clergyman.  He  is  carelessly  dressed, 
and  looks  rather  used  up,  which  isn’t  much  to  be  wondered 
at,  seeing  that  he  has  just  finished  six  weeks  of  examination 
work;  but  there  he  basks,  and  spreads  himself  out  in  the 
evening  sun,  bent  on  enjoying  life,  though  he  doesn’t 
quite  know  what  to  do  with  his  arms  and  legs.  Surely  it 
is  our  friend  the  young  master,  whom  we  have  had 
glimpses  of  before,  but  his  face  has  gained  a great  deal 
since  we  last  came  across  him. 

And  by  Jus  side,  in  white  flannel  shirt  and  trousers, 
straw  hat,  the  captain’s  belt,  and  the  untanned  yellow 
cricket  shoes  which  all  the  eleven  wear,  sits  a strapping 
figure,  near  six  feet  high,  with  ruddy  tanned  face  and 


256 


TOM  BROWN’S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


whiskers,  curly  brown  hair  and  a laughing,  dancing  eye. 
He  is  leaning  forward  with  his  elbows  resting  on  his  knees, 
and  dandling  his  favorite  bat,  with  which  he  has  made 
thirty  or  forty  runs  to-day,  in  his  strong  brown  hands.  It 
is  Tom  Brown,  grown  into  a young  man  nineteen  years 
old,  a praepostor  and  captain  of  the  eleven,  spending  his 
last  day  as  a Rugby-boy,  and  let  us  hope  as  much  wiser  as 
he  is  bigger,  since  we  last  had  the  pleasure  of  coming 
across  him. 

And  at  their  feet  on  the  warm  dry  ground,  similarly 
dressed,  sits  Arthur,  Turkish  fashion,  with  his  bat  across 
his  knees.  He  too  is  no  longer  a boy,  less  of  a boy  in  fact 
than  Tom,  if  one  may  judge  from  the  thoughtfulness  of 
his  face,  which  is  somewhat  paler,  too,  than  one  could 
wish  ; but  his  figure,  though  slight,  is  well  knit  and  active, 
and  all  his  old  timidity  has  disappeared,  and  is  replaced  by 
silent  quaint  fun,  with  which  his  face  twinkles  all  over, 
as  he  listens  to  the  broken  talk  between  the  other  two,  in 
which  he  joins  every  now  and  then. 

All  three  are  watching  the  game  eagerly,  and  joining  in 
the  cheering  which  follows  every  good  hit.  It  is  pleasing 
to  see  the  easy  friendly  footing  which  the  pupils  are  on 
with  their  master,  perfectly  respectful,  yet  with  no  reserve 
and  nothing  forced  in  their  intercourse.  Tom  has  clearly 
abandoned  the  old  theory  of  44  natural  enemies  ” in  this 
case  at  any  rate. 

But  it  is  time  to  listen  to  what  they  are  saying,  and  see 
what  we  can  gather  out  of  it. 

“ I don’t  object  to  your  theory,”  says  the  master,  44  and 
I allow  you  have  made  a fair  case  for  yourself.  But  now, 
in  such  books  as  Aristophanes,  for  instance,  you’ve  been 
reading  a play  this  half  with  the  Doctor,  haven’t  you.” 

44  Yes,  the  Knights,”  answered  Tom. 

64  Well,  I’m  sure  you  would  have  enjoyed  the  wonder- 
ful humor  of  it  twice  as  much  if  you  had  taken  more  pains 
with  your  scholarship.” 

44  Well,  sir,  I don’t  believe  any  boy  in  the  form  enjoyed 
the  sets-to  between  Cleon  and  the  Sausage-seller  more  than 
I did — eh,  Arthur  ? ” said  Tom,  giving  him  a stir  with  his 
foot. 

44  Yes,  I must  say  he  did,”  said  Arthur.  44 1 think,  sir, 
you’ve  hit  upon  the  wrong  book  there.” 


TOM  BROWN’S  LAST  MATCH . 


257 


“ Not  a bit  of  it,”  said  the  master.  46  Why,  in  those  very 
passages  of  arms,  how  can  yon  thoroughly  appreciate  them 
unless  you  are  master  of  the  weapons  ? and  the  weapons 
are  the  language  which  you,  Brown,  have  never  half 
worked  at ; and  so,  as  I say,  you  must  have  lost  all  the 
delicate  shades  of  meaning  which  make  the  best  part  of  the 
fun.” 

44 Oh!  well  played — bravo,  Johnson!”  shouted  Arthur, 
dropping  his  bat  and  clapping  furiously,  and  Tom  joined  in 
with  a k4  Bravo,  Johnson!  ” which  might  have  been  heard 
at  the  chapel. 

44  Eh  ! what  was  it  ? I didn’t  see,”  inquired  the  master  ; 
44  they  only  got  one  run,  I thought  ? ” 

44  No,  but  such  a ball,  three-quarters  length  and  coming 
straight  for  his  leg  bail.  Nothing  but  that  turn  of  the 
wrist  could  have  saved  him,  and  he  drew  it  away  to  leg  for 
a safe  one.  Bravo,  Johnson!  ” 

44  How  well  they  are  bowling,  though,”  said  Arthur ; 
they  don’t  mean  to  be  beat,  I can  see.” 

44  There  now,”  struck  in  the  master,  44  you  see  that’s  just 
what  I have  been  preaching  this  half-hour.  The  delicate 
play  is  the  true  thing.  I don’t  understand  cricket,  so  I 
don’t  enjoy  those  fine  draws  which  you  tell  me  are  the  best 
play,  though  when  you  or  Raggles  hit  a ball  hard  away  for 
six  I am  as  delighted  as  any  one.  Don’t  you  see  the 
analogy  ? ” 

44  Yes,  sir,”  answered  Tom,  looking  up  roguishly,  44 1 see ; 
only  the  question  remains  whether  I should  have  got  most 
good  by  understanding  Greek  particles  or  cricket  thorough- 
ly. I’m  such  a thick,  I never  should  have  had  time  for 
both.” 

44 1 see  you  are  an  incorrigible,”  said  the  master  with  a 
chuckle ; 44  but  I refute  you  by  an  example.  Arthur  there 
has  taken  in  Greek  and  cricket  too.” 

44  Yes,  but  no  thanks  to  him ; Greek  came  natural  to 
him.  Why,  when  he  first  came  I remember  he  used  to 
read  Herodotus  for  pleasure  as  I did  Don  Quixote,  and 
couldn’t  have  made  a false  concord  if  he’d  tried  ever  so 
hard — and  then  I looked  after  his  cricket.” 

44 Out!  Bailey  has  given  him  out — do  you  see,  Tom?” 
cries  Arthur.  44  How  foolish  of  them  to  run  so  hard.” 

44  Well,  it  can’t  be  helped,  he  has  played  very  well. 
Whose  turn  is  it  to  go  in  ? ” 


258 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


“I  don’t  know;  they’ve  got  your  list  in  the  tent.’* 

“ Let’s  go  and  see,”  said  Tom,  rising ; but  at  this  mo- 
ment Jack  Haggles  and  two  or  three  more  came  running  to 
the  island  moat. 

“ Oh,  Brown,  mayn’t  I go  in  next?”  shouts  the  Swiper. 

“ Whose  name  is  next  on  the  list?  ” says  the  captain. 

“ Winter’s,  and  then  Arthur’s,”  answers  the  boy  who 
carries  it;  “but  there  are  only  twenty-six  runs  to  get,  and 
no  time  to  lose.  I heard  Mr.  Aislabie  say  that  the  stumps 
must  be  drawn  at  a quarter  past-eight  exactly.” 

“ Oh,  do  let  the  Swiper  go  in,”  chorus  the  boys  ; so  Tom 
yields  against  his  better  judgment. 

“ I dare  say  now  I’ve  lost  the  match  by  this  nonsense,” 
he  says  as  he  sits  down  again  ; “ they’ll  be  sure  to  get 
Jack’s  wicket  in  three  or  four  minutes;  however,  you’ll 
have  the  chance,  sir,  of  seeing  a hard  hit  or  two,”  adds  he, 
smiling,  and  turning  to  the  master. 

“ Come,  none  of  your  irony,  Brown,”  answers  the  mas- 
ter. “ I’m  beginning  to  understand  the  game  scientifically. 
What  a noble  game  it  is  too  ! ” 

“Isn’t  it?  But  it’s  more  than  a game — it’s  an  institu- 
tion,” said  Tom. 

“Yes,”  said  Arthur,  “the  birthright  of  British  boys, 
old  and  young,  as  habeas  corpus  and  trial  by  jury  are  of 
British  men.” 

“ The  discipline  and  reliance  on  one  another  which  it 
teaches  is  so  valuable,  I think,”  went  on  the  master,  “it 
ought  to  be  such  an  unselfish  game.  It  merges  the  indi- 
vidual in  the  eleven ; he  doesn’t  play  that  he  may  win,  but 
that  his  side  may.” 

“ That’s  very  true,”  said  Tom,  “ and  that’s  why  football 
and  cricket,  now  one  conies  to  think  of  it,  are  so  much  bet- 
ter games  than  fives’  or  hare-and-hounds  or  any  others 
where  the  object  is  to  come  in  first  or  to  win  for  one's  self, 
atid  not  that  one’s  side  may  win.” 

“ And  then  the  captain  of  the  eleven  ! ” said  the  master, 
“ what  a post  is  his  in  our  school  world ! almost  as  hard  as 
the  Doctor’s ; requiring  skill  and  gentleness  and  firmness, 
and  I know  not  what  other  rare  qualities.” 

“ Which  don’t  he  wish  he  may  get  ? ” said  Tom,  laugh- 
ing ; “ at  any  rate  he  hasn’t  got  them  yet,  or  he  wouldn’t 
have  been  such  a flat  to-night  as  to  let  Jack  Haggles  go  in 
out  of  his  turn.” 


TOM  BROWN'S  LAST  MATCH. 


259 


%4  Ah ! the  Doctor  never  would  have  done  that,”  said 
Arthur,  demurely.  44  Tom,  you’ve  a great  deal  to  learn 
yet  in  the  art  of  ruling.” 

44  Well,  I wish  you’d  tell  the  Doctor  so,  then,  and  get 
him  to  let  me  stop  till  I’m  twenty.  I don’t  want  to  leave, 
I’m  sure.” 

44  What  a sight  it  is,”  broke  in  the  master,  44  the  Doctor 
as  a ruler.  Perhaps  ours  is  the  only  little  corner  of  the 
British  empire  which  is  thoroughly,  wisely,  and  strongly 
ruled  just  now.  I’m  more  and  more  thankful  every  day  of 
my  life  that  I came  here  to  be  under  him.” 

44  So  am  I,  I’m  sure,”  said  Tom  ; 44  and  more  and  more 
sorry  that  I’ve  got  to  leave.” 

44  Every  place  and  thing  one  sees  here  reminds  one  of 
some  wise  act  of  his,”  went  on  the  master.  44  This  island 
now — you  remember  the  time,  Brown,  when  it  was  laid 
out  in  small  gardens,  and  cultivated  by  frost-bitten  fags  in 
February  and  March?” 

44  Of  course  I do,”  said  Tom  ; 44  didn’t  I hate  spending 
two  hours  in  the  afternoons  grubbing  in  the  tough  dirt 
with  the  stump  of  a fives’-bat  ? But  turf-cart  was  good 
fun  enough.” 

44 1 dare  say  it  was,  but  it  was  always  leading  to  fights 
with  the  townspeople  ; and  then  the  stealing  flowers  out  of 
all  the  gardens  in  Rugby  for  the  Easter  show  was  abom- 
inable.” 

44  Well,  so  it  was,”  said  Tom,  looking  down,  44  but  we 
fags  couldn’t  help  ourselves.  But  what  has  that  to  do 
with  the  Doctor’s  ruling?  ” 

44  A great  deal,  I think,”  said  the  master ; 44  what  brought 
island  fagging  to  an  end  ? ” 

44  Why,  the  Easter  speeches  were  put  off  till  midsummer,” 
said  Tom,  44  and  the  sixth  had  the  gymnastic  poles  put  up 
here.” 

44  Well,  and  who  changed  the  time  of  the  speeches,  and 
put  the  idea  of  gymnastic  poles  into  the  heads  of  their 
worships,  the  sixth-form  ?”  said  the  master. 

44  The  Doctor,  I suppose,”  said  Tom.  44 1 never  thought 
of  that.” 

44  Gf  course  you  didn’t,”  said  the  master,  44  or  else,  fag  as 
you  were,  you  would  have  shouted  with  the  whole  school 
against  putting  down  old  customs.  And  that’s  the  wagr 


260 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL’D  A YS. 


that  all  the  Doctor’s  reforms  have  been  carried  out  when 
he  has  been  left  to  himself — quietly  and  naturally,  putting 
a good  thing  in  the  place  of  a bad,  and  letting  the  bad  die 
out ; no  wavering  and  no  hurry — the  best  thing  that  could 
be  done  for  the  time  being,  and  patience  for  the  rest.” 

“ Just  Tom’s  own  way,”  chimed  in  Arthur,  nudging  Tom 
with  his  elbow,  “ driving  a nail  where  it  will  go;”  to 
which  allusion  Tom  answered  by  a sly  kick. 

u Exactly  so,”  said  the  master,  innocent  of  the  allusion 
and  by-play. 

Meantime  Jack  Raggles,  with  his  sleeves  tucked  up 
above  his  great  brown  elbows,  scorning  pads  and  gloves, 
has  presented  himself  at  the  wicket;  and  having  run  one 
for  a forward  drive  of  Johnson’s,  is  about  to  receive  his 
first  ball.  There  are  only  twenty-four  runs  to  make,  and 
four  wickets  to  go  down  ; a winning  match  if  they  play 
decently  steady.  The  ball  is  a very  swift  one,  and  rises 
fast,  catching  Jack  on  the  outside  of  the  thigh,  and  bound- 
ing away  as  if  from  india-rubber,  while  they  run  two  for  a 
leg-bye  amid  great  applause,  and  shouts  from  Jack’s  many 
admirers.  The  next  ball  is  a beautifully  pitched  ball  for 
the  outer  stump,  which  the  reckless  and  unfeeling  Jack 
catches  hold  of,  and  hits  right  round  to  leg  for  five,  while 
the  applause  becomes  deafening:  only  seventeen  runs  to 
get  with  four  wickets — the  game  is  all  but  ours ! 

It  is  “ over”  now,  and  Jack  walks  swaggering  about  his 
wicket,  with  the  bat  over  his  shoulder,  while  Mr.  Aislabie 
holds  a short  parley  with  his  men.  Then  the  cover-point 
hitter,  that  cunning  man,  goes  on  to  bowl  slow  twisters. 
Jack  waves  his  hand  triumphantly  toward  the  tent,  as 
much  as  to  say,  “ See  if  I don’t  finish  it  all  off  now  in  three 
hits.” 

Alas  ! my  son  Jack ! the  enemy  is  too  old  for  thee.  The 
first  ball  of  the  over  Jack  steps  out  and  meets,  swiping 
with  all  his  force.  If  he  had  only  allowed  for  the  twist ! 
but  he  hasn’t,  and  so  the  ball  goes  spinning  up  straight 
into  the  air,  as  if  it  would  never  c«oie  down  again.  Away 
runs  Jack,  shouting  and  trusting  to  the  chapter  of  acci- 
dents; but  the  bowler  runs  steadily  under  it,  judging  every 
spin,  and  calling  out,  “ I have  it,”  catches  it,  and  playfully 
pitches  it  on  to  the  back  of  the  stalwart  Jack,  who  is  de- 
parting with  a rueful  countenance. 


'10M  SHOWN*  8 LAST  MATCH. 


261 


“ 1 knew  how  it  would  be,”  says  Tom,  rising  “ Come 
along,  the  game’s  getting  very  serious.” 

So  they  leave  the  island  and  go  to  the  tent,  and,  after 
deep  consultation,  Arthur  is  sent  in,  and  goes  off  to  the 
wicket  with  a last  exhortation  from  Tom  to  play  steady 
and  keep  his  bat  straight.  To  the  suggestion  that  Winter 
in  the  best  bat  left.  Tom  only  replies,  “ Arthur  is  the 
steadiest,  and  Johnson  will  make  the  runs  if  the  wicket  is 
only  kept  up.” 

“ I am  surprised  to  see  Arthur  in  the  eleven,”  said  the 
master,  as  they  stood  together  in  front  of  the  dense  crowd, 
which  was  now  closing  in  round  the  ground. 

“ Well,  I’m  not  quite  sure  that  he  ought  to  be  in  for  his 
play,”  said  Tom,  “but  I couldn’t  help  putting  him  in.  It 
will  do  him  so  much  good,  and  you  can’t  think  what  I owe 
him.” 

The  master  smiled.  The  clock  strikes  eight,  and  the 
whole  field  becomes  fevered  with  excitement.  Arthur, 
after  two  narrow  escapes,  scores  one  ; and  Johnson  gets  the 
ball.  The  bowling  and  fielding  are  superb,  and  Johnson’s 
batting  worthy  the  occasion.  He  makes  here  a two,  and 
there  a one  managing  to  keep  the  ball  to  himself,  and  Ar- 
thur backs  up  and  runs  perfectly;  only  eleven  runs  to 
make  now,  and  the  crowd  scarcety  breathe.  At  last  Arthur 
gets  the  ball  again,  and  actually  drives  it  forward  for  two, 
and  feels  prouder  than  when  he  got  the  three  best  prizes, 
at  hearing  Tom’s  shout  of  joy,  “ Well  played,  well  played, 
young  ’un ! ” 

But  the  next  ball  is  too  much  for  a young  hand,  and  his 
bails  fly  different  ways.  Nine  runs  to  make,  and  two 
wickets  to  go  down — it  is  too  much  for  human  nerves. 

Before  Winter  can  get  in,  the  omnibus  which  is  to  take 
the  Lord’s  men  to  the  train  pulls  up  at  the  side  of  the 
close  and  Mr.  Aislabie  and  Tom  consult,  and  give  out  that 
the  stumps  will  be  drawn  after  the  next  over.  And  so  ends 
the  great  match.  Winter  and  Johnson  carry  out  their 
bats,  and,  it  being  a one  day’s  match,  the  Lord’s  men  are 
declared  the  winners,  they  having  scored  the  most  in  the 
first  innings. 

But  such  a defeat  is  a victory  ; so  think  Tom  and  all  the 
school  eleven,  as  they  accompany  their  conquerers  to  the 
Omnibus,  and  send  them  off  with  three  ringing  cheers*  after 


262 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


Mr.  Aislabie  has  shaken  hands  all  round,  saying  to  Tom, 
44  I must  compliment  you,  sir,  on  your  eleven,  and  I hope 
we  shall  have  you  for  a member  if  you  come  up  to  town.” 

As  Tom  and  the  rest  of  the  eleven  were  turning  back 
into  the  close,  and  everybody  was  beginning  to  cry  out  for 
another  country-dance,  encouraged  by  the  success  of  the 
night  before,  the  young  master,  who  was  just  leaving  the 
close,  stopped  him,  and  asked  him  to  come  up  to  tea  at 
half-past  eight,  adding,  “I  won’t  keep  you  more  than  half 
an  hour,  and  ask  Arthur  to  come  up  too. 

44  I’ll  come  up  with  you  directly,  if  you’ll  let  me,”  said 
Tom,  44  for  I feel  rather  melancholy,  and  not  quite  up  to 
the  country-dance  and  supper  with  the  rest.” 

“ Do  by  all  means,”  said  the  master ; 44  I’ll  wait  here  for 

you.” 

So  Tom  went  off  to  get  his  boots  and  things  from  the 
tent,  to  tell  Arthur  of  the  invitation,  and  to  speak  to  his 
second  in  command  about  stopping  the  dancing  and  shut- 
ting up  the  close  as  soon  as  it  grew  dusk.  Arthur  prom- 
ised to  follow  as  soon  as  he  had  had  a dance.  So  Tom 
handed  his  things  over  to  the  man  in  charge  of  the  tent,  and 
walked  quietly  away  to  the  gate  where  the  master  was 
waiting,  and  the  two  took  their  way  together  up  the  Hill- 
m orton  road. 

Of  course  they  found  the  master’s  house  locked  up,  and 
all  the  servants  away  in  the  close,  about  this  time  no  doubt 
footing  it  away  on  the  grass  with  extreme  delight  to  them- 
selves, and  in  utter  oblivion  of  the  unfortunate  bachelor, 
their  master,  whose  one  enjoyment  in  the  shape  of  meals 
was  his  u dish  of  tea  ” (as  our  grandmothers  called  it)  in 
the  evening ; and  the  phrase  was  apt  in  his  case,  for  he  al- 
ways poured  his  out  into  the  saucer  before  drinking.  Great 
was  the  good  man’s  horror  at  finding  himself  shut  out  of 
his  own  house.  Had  he  been  alone,  he  would  have  treated 
it  as  a matter  of  course,  and  would  have  strolled  content- 
edly up  and  down  his  gravel-walk  until  some  one  came 
home ; but  he  was  hurt  at  the  stain  on  his  character  of 
host,  especially  as  the  guest  was  a pupil.  However,  the 
guest  seemed  to  think  it  a great  joke,  and  presently  as  they 
poked  about  round  the  house,  mounted  a wall,  from  which 
he  could  reach  a passage  window ; the  window,  as  it  turned 
out,  was  not  bolted,  so  in  another  minute  Tom  was  in  the 


TOM  BROWN9 S LAST  MATCH. 


263 


house  and  down  at  the  front  door,  which  he  opened  from 
inside.  The  master  chuckled  grimly  at  this  burglarious 
entry,  and  insisted  on  leaving  the  hall-door  and  two  of  the 
front  windows  open,  to  frighten  the  truants  on  their  return ; 
and  then  the  two  set  about  foraging  for  tea,  in  which  oper- 
ation the  master  was  much  at  fault,  having  the  faintest 
possible  idea  where  to  find  anything,  and  being  moreover 
wondrously  short-sighted,  but  Tom  by  a sort  of  instinct 
knew  the  right  cupboards  in  the  kitchen  and  pantry,  and 
soon  managed  to  place  on  the  snuggery  table  better  ma- 
terials for  a meal  than  had  appeared  there  probably  during 
the  reign  of  his  tutor,  who  was  then  and  there  initiated, 
among  other  things,  into  the  excellence  of  that  mysterions 
condiment,  a dripping-cake.  The  cake  was  newly  baked, 
and  all  rich  and  flaky  ; Tom  had  found  it  reposing  in  the 
cook’s  private  cupboard,  awaiting  her  return  ; and  as  a 
warning  to  her,  they  finished  it  to  the  last  crumb.  The 
kettle  sang  away  merrily  on  the  hob  of  the  snuggery,  for 
notwithstanding  the  time  of  year,  they  lighted  a fire,  throw- 
ing both  the  windows  wide  open  at  the  same  time.  The 
heap  of  books  and  papers  was  pushed  away  to  the  other 
end  of  the  table,  and  the  great  solitary  engraving  of  King’s 
College  Chapel  over  the  mantelpiece  looked  less  stiff  than 
usual,  as  they  settled  themselves  down  in  the  twilight  to 
the  serious  drinking  of  tea. 

After  some  talk  on  the  match,  and  other  indifferent  sub- 
jects, the  conversation  came  naturally  back  to  Tom’s  ap- 
proaching departure,  over  which  he  began  again  to  make 
his  moan. 

44  Well,  we  shall  all  miss  you  quite  as  much  as  you  will 
miss  us,”  said  the  master.  “You  are  the  Nestor  of  the 
school  now,  are  you  not  ? ” 

“ Yes,  ever  since  East  left,”  answered  Tom. 

44  By  the  bye,  have  you  heard  from  him  ? ” 

“Yes,  I had  a letter  in  February,  just  before  he  started 
for  India  to  join  his  regiment.” 

44  He  will  make  a capital  officer.” 

“Ay,  won’t  he!”  said  Tom,  brightening;  “no  fellow 
could  handle  boys  better,  and  I suppose  soldiers  are  very 
like  boys.  And  he’ll  never  tell  them  to  go  where  he  won’t 
go  himself.  No  mistake  about  that — a braver  fellow  never 
walked.” 


264  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 

“ His  year  in  the  sixth  will  have  taught  him  a good  deal 
that  will  be  useful  to  him  now.” 

“ So  it  will,”  said  Tom,  staring  into  the  fire.  “Poor, 
dear  Harry,”  he  went  on,  “ how  well  I remember  the  day 
we  were  put  out  of  the  twenty.  How  he  rose  to  the 
situation,  and  burned  his  cigar-cases,  and  gave  away  his 
pistols,  and  pondered  on  the  constitutional  authority  of  the 
sixth,  and  his  new  duties  to  the  Doctor,  and  the  fifth  form, 
and  the  fags.  Ay,  and  no  fellow  ever  acted  up  to  them 
better,  though  he  was  always  a people’s  man — for  the  fogs, 
and  against  constituted  authorities.  He  couldn’t  help  that, 
you  know.  I’m  sure  the  Doctor  must  have  liked  him?” 
said  Tom,  looking  up  inquiringly. 

“ The  Doctor  sees  the  good  in  every  one,  and  appreciates 
it,”  said  the  master,  dogmatically ; “ but  I hope  East  will 
get  a good  colonel.  He  won’t  do  if  he  can’t  respect  those 
above  him.  How  long  it  took  him  even  here  to  learn  the 
lesson  of  obeying.” 

“Well,  I wish  I were  alongside  of  him,”  said  Tom.  “ If 
I can’t  be  at  Rugby,  I want  to  be  at  work  in  the  world,  and 
not  dawdling  away  three  years  at  Oxford.” 

“What do  you  mean  by  6 at  work  in  the  world’?”  said 
the  master,  pausing,  with  his  lips  close  to  his  saucerful  of 
tea,  and  peering  at  Tom  over  it. 

“Well,  I mean  real  work;  one’s  profession;  whatever 
one  will  have  really  to  do,  and  make  one’s  living  by.  I 
want  to  be  doing  some  real  good,  feeling  that  I am  not 
only  at  play  in  the  world,”  answered  Tom,  rather  puzzled 
to  find  out  himself  what  he  really  did  mean. 

“ You  are  mixing  up  two  very  different  things  in  your 
head,  I think,  Brown,”  said  the  master,  putting  down  the 
empty  saucer,  “ and  you  ought  to  get  clear  about  them. 
You  talk  of  4 working  to  get  your  living/  and  4 doing  some 
real  good  in  the  world/ in  the  same  breath.  Now,  you 
may  be  getting  a very  good  living  in  a profession,  and 
yet  doing  no  good  at  all  in  the  world,  but  quite  the  con- 
trary, at  the  same  time.  Keep  the  latter  before  you  as 
your  only  object,  and  you  will  be  right,  whether  you  make 
a living  or  not ; but  if  you  dwell  on  the  other,  you’ll  very 
likely  drop  into  mere  money-making,  and  let  the  world 
take  care  of  itself  for  good  or  evil.  Don’t  be  in  a hurry 
about  finding  your  work  in  the  world  for  yourself;  you 


TOM  BROWN'S  LAST  MATCH. 


265 


are  not  old  enough  to  judge  for  yourself  yet,  but  just  look 
about  you  in  the  place  you  find  yourself  in,  and  try  to 
make  things  a little  better  and  hon ester  there.  You’ll  find 
plenty  to  keep  your  hand  in  at  Oxford,  or  wherever  else 
you  go.  And  don’t  be  led  away  to  think  this  part  of  the 
world  important  and  that  unimportant.  Every  corner  of 
the  world  is  important.  No  man  knows  whether  this  part 
or  that  is  most  so,  but  every  man  may  do  some  honest  work 
in  his  own  corner.”  And  then  the  good  man  went  on  to 
talk  wisely  to  Tom  of  the  sort  of  work  which  he  might 
take  up  as  an  undergraduate  ; and  warned  him  of  the  pre- 
valent university  sins,  and  explained  to  him  the  many  and 
great  differences  between  university  and  school  life  ; till 
the  twilight  changed  into  darkness,  and  they  heard  the 
truant  servants  stealing  in  by  the  back  entrance. 

“I  wonder  where  Arthur  can  be,”  said  Tom  at  last,  look- 
ing at  his  watch  : “ why,  it’s  nearly  half-past  nine  already.” 

44  Oh,  he  is  comfortably  at  supper  with  the  eleven,  for- 
getful of  his  oldest  friends,”  s&id  the  master.  “ Nothing 
has  given  me  greater  pleasure,”  he  went  on,  “ than  your 
friendship  for  him;  it  has  been  the  making  of  you  both.” 

“ Of  me,  at  any  rate,”  answered  Tom  ; “ I should  never 
have  been  here  now  but  for  him.  It  was  the  luckiest 
chance  in  the  world  that  sent  him  to  Rugby,  and  made 
him  my  chum.” 

44  Why  do  you  talk  of  lucky  chances  ? ” said  the  master  ; 
“ I don’t  know  that  there  are  any  such  things  in  the  world ; 
at  any  rate  there  was  neither  luck  nor  chance  in  that 
matter.” 

Tom  looked  at  him  inquiringly,  and  he  went  on.  “ Do 
you  remember  when  the  Doctor  lectured  you  and  East  at 
the  end  of  one  half-year,  when  you  were  in  the  shell,  and 
had  been  getting  into  all  sorts  of  scrapes  ? ” 

44  Yes,  well  enough,”  said  Tom  : 44  it  was  the  half-year 
before  Arthur  came.” 

44  Exactly  so,”  answered  the  master.  “Now,  I was  with 
him  a few  minutes  afterwards,  and  he  was  in  great  distress 
about  you  two.  And,  after  some  talk,  we  both  agreed 
that  you  in  particular  wanted  some  object  in  the  school 
beyond  games  and  mischief;  for  it  was  quite  clear  that 
you  never  would  make  the  regular  school  work  your  first 
object.  And  so  the  Doctor,  at  the  beginning  of  the  next 


266 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-BAYS. 


half-year,  looked  out  the  best  of  the  new  boys,  and  sepa- 
rated you  and  East,  and  put  the  young  boy  into  your 
study,  in  the  hope  that  when  you  had  somebody  to  lean 
on  you,  you  would  begin  to  stand  a little  steadier  your- 
self, and  get  manliness  and  thoughtfulness.  And  I can 
assure  you  he  has  watched  the  experiment  ever  since 
with  great  satisfaction.  Ah ! not  one  of  you  boys  will 
ever  know  the  anxiety  you  have  given  him,  or  the  care 
with  which  he  has  watched  over  every  step  in  your  school 
lives.” 

Up  to  this  time,  Tom  had  never  wholly  given  in  to  or 
understood  the  Doctor.  At  first  he  had  thoroughly  feared 
him.  For  some  years,  as  I have  tried  to  show,  he  had 
learned  to  regard  him  with  love  and  respect,  and  to  think 
him  a very  great  and  wise  and  good  man.  But,  as  re- 
garded his  own  position  in  the  school,  of  which  he  was  no 
little  proud,  Tom  had  no  idea  of  giving  any  one  credit  for 
it  but  himself,  and,  truth  to  tell,  was  a very  self-conceited 
young  gentleman  on  the  subject.  He  was  wont  to  boast 
that  he  had  fought  his  own  way  fairly  up  the  school,  and 
had  never  made  up  to  or  been  taken  up  by  any  big  fellow 
or  master,  and  that  it  was  now  quite  a different  place  from 
what  it  was  when  he  first  came.  And,  indeed,  though  he 
didn’t  actually  boast  of  it,  yet  in  his  secret  soul  he  did  to  a 
great  extent  believe  that  the  great  reform  of  the  school 
had  been  owing  quite  as  much  to  himself  as  to  any  one 
else.  Arthur,  he  acknowledged,  had  done  him  good,  and 
taught  him  a good  deal,  so  had  other  boys  in  different 
Avays,  but  they  had  not  had  the  same  means  of  influence 
on  the  school  in  general ; and  as  for  the  Doctor,  why,  he 
was  a splendid  master,  but  every  one  knew  that  masters 
could  do  very  little  out  of  school  hours.  In  short,  he  felt 
on  terms  of  equality  with  his  chief,  so  far  as  the  social  state 
of  the  school  was  concerned,  and  thought  that  the  Doctor 
would  find  it  no  easy  matter  to  get  on  without  him.  More- 
over, his  school  toryism  was  still  strong,  and  he  looked 
still  with  some  jealousy  on  the  Doctor,  as  somewhat  of  a 
fanatic  in  the  matter  of  change,  and  thought  it  very  de- 
sirable for  the  school  that  he  should  have  some  wise  person 
(such  as  himself)  to  look  sharply  after  vested  school-rights, 
and  see  that  nothing  was  done  to  the  injury  of  the  republic 
without  due  protest. 


TOM  BROWN'S  LAST  MATCH . 


267 


It  was  a new  light  to  him  to  find  that,  besides  teaching 
the  sixth,  and  governing  and  guiding  the  whole  school,  ed- 
iting classics,  and  writing  histories,  the  great  head-master 
had  found  time  in  those  busy  years  to  watch  over  the 
career  even  of  him,  Tom  Brown,  and  his  particular  friends, 
— and,  no  doubt,  of  fifty  other  boys  at  the  same  time ; and 
all  this  without  taking  the  least  credit  to  himself,  or  of 
seeming  to  know,  or  let  any  one  else  know,  that  he  ever 
thought  particularly  of  any  boys  at  all. 

However,  the  Doctor’s  victory  was  complete  from  that 
moment  over  Tom  Brown  at  any  rate.  He  gave  way  at 
all  points,  and  the  enemy  marched  right  over  him,  cavalry, 
infantry,  and  artillery,  the  land  transport  corps,  and  the 
camp  followers.  It  had  taken^eight  long  years  to  do  it, 
but  now  it  was  done  thoroughly,  and  there  wasn’t  a corner 
of  him  left  which  didn’t  believe  in  the  Doctor.  Had  he 
returned  to  school  again,  and  the  doctor  begun  the  half- 
year  by  abolishing  fagging,  and  football,  and  the  Saturday 
half-holiday,  or  all  or  any  of  the  most  cherished  school  in- 
stitutions, Tom  would  have  supported  him  with  the  blind- 
est faith.  And  so,  after  a half  confession  of  his  previous 
shortcomings,  and  sorrowful  adieus  to  his  tutor,  from  whom 
he  received  two  beautifully  bound  volumes  of  the  Doctor’s 
sermons,  as  a parting  present,  he  marched  down  to  the 
school-house,  a hero-worshiper,  who  would  have  satisfied 
the  soul  of  Thomas  Carlyle  himself. 

There  he  found  the  eleven  at  high  jinks  after  supper, 
Jack  Raggles  shouting  comic  songs,  and  performing  feats  of 
strength ; and  was  greeted  by  a chorus  of  mingled  remon- 
strance at  his  desertion,  and  joy  at  his  reappearance.  And 
falling  in  with  the  humor  of  the  evening,  was  soon  as  great 
a boy  as  all  the  rest ; and  at  ten  o’clock  was  chaired  round 
the  quadrangle,  on  one  of  the  hall  benches,  borne  aloft  by 
the  eleven,  shouting  in  chorus,  “ For  he’s  a jolly  good 
fellow,”  while  old  Thomas,  in  a melting  mood,  and  the 
other  school-house  servants,  stood  looking  on. 

And  the  next  morning  after  breakfast  he  squared  up  all 
the  cricketing  accounts,  went  round  to  his  tradesmen  and 
other  acquaintance,  and  said  his  hearty  good-byes,  and  by 
twelve  o’clock  was  in  the  train,  and  away  for  London,  no 
longer  a school  boy,  and  divided  in  his  thoughts  between 
hero-worship,  honest  regrets  over  the  long  stage  of  his  life 


268 


TOM  BROWN’S  SCHOOL-BAYS. 


which  was  now  slipping  out  of  sight  behind  him,  and  hopes 
and  resolves  for  the  next  stage,  upon  which  he  wa3  entering 
with  all  the  confidence  of  a young  traveler. 


CHAPTEK  IX 

FINIS. 

‘'Strange  friend,  past,  present,  and  to  be ; 

Loved  deeplier,  darklier  understood  ; 

Behold,  I dream  a dream  of  good, 

And  mingle  all  the  world  with  thee.” 

Tennyson. 

In  the  summer  of  1842,  our  hero  stopped  once  again  at 
the  well-known  station,  and  leaving  his  bag  and  fishing-rod 
with  a porter,  walked  slowly  and  sadly  up  toward  the 
town.  It  was  now  July.  Tie  had  rushed  away  from  Ox- 
ford the  moment  that  term  was  over,  for  a fishing  ramble 
in  Scotland  with  two  college  friends  and  had  been  for 
three  weeks  living  on  oat-cake,  mutton-hams  and  whiskey, 
in  the  wildest  parts  of  Skye.  They  had  descended  one 
sultry  evening  on  the  little  inn  at  Kyle  Rhea  ferry,  and 
while  Tom  and  another  of  the  party  put  their  tackle  to- 
gether and  began  exploring  the  stream  for  a sea-trout  for 
supper,  the  third  strolled  into  the  house  to  arrange  for  their 
entertainment.  Presently  he  came  out  in  a loose  blouse 
and  slippers,  a short  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  an  old  news- 
paper in  his  hand,  and  threw  himself  on  the  heathery  scrub 
which  met  the  shingle,  within  easy  hail  of  the  fishermen. 
There  he  lay,  the  picture  of  free-and-easy,  loafing,  hand-to- 
mouth  young  England,  “ improving  his  mind,”  as  he 
shouted  to  them,  by  the  perusal  of  the  fortnight-old  weekly 
paper,  soiled  with  the  marks  of  toddy-glasses  and  tobacco- 
ashes,  the  legacy  of  the  last  traveler,  which  he  had  hunted 
out  from  the  kitchen  of  the  little  hostelry,  and  being  a 
youth  of  a communicative  turn  of  mind,  began  imparting 
the  contents  to  the  fishermen  as  he  went  on. 

“ What  a bother  they  are  making  about  these  wretched 
Corn-laws ; here’s  three  or  four  columns  full  of  nothing 
but  sliding-scales  and  fixed  duties.  Hang  this  tobacco,  it’s 
always  going  out ! Ah,  here’s  something  better — a splendid 


FINIS. 


269 


match  between  Kent  and  England,  Brown ! Kent  win- 
ning by  three  wickets.  Felix  fifty-six  runs  without  a 
chance,  and  not  out  ! ” 

Tom,  intent  on  a fish  which  had  risen  at  him  twice,  an- 
swered only  with  a grunt. 

“ Anything  about  the  Goodwood?”  called  out  the  third 
man. 

44  Rory  O’More  drawn.  Butterfly  colt  amiss,”  shouted 
the  student. 

44  Just  my  luck,”  grumbled  the  inquirer,  jerking  his  flies 
off  the  water,  and  throwing  again  with  a heavy,  sullen 
splash,  and  frightening  Tom’s  fish. 

44 1 say,  can’t  you  throw  lighter  over  there  ? we  ain’t  fish- 
ing for  grampuses,”  shouted  Tom  across  the  stream. 

44  Hullo,  Brown  ! here’s  something  for  you,”  called  out 
the  reading  man  next  moment.  44  Why,  your  old  master, 
Arnold  of  Rugby,  is  dead.” 

Tom’s  hand  stopped  half-way  in  his  cast,  and  his  line 
and  flies  went  all  tangling  round  and  round  his  rod;  you 
might  have  knocked  him  over  with  a feather.  Neither  of 
his  companions  took  any  notice  of  him  luckily;  and  with 
a violent  effort  he  set  to  work  mechanically  to  disentangle 
his  line.  He  felt  completely  carried  off  his  moral  and  intel- 
lectual legs,  as  if  he  had  lost  his  standing-point  in  the  invis- 
ible world.  Besides  which  the  deep  loving  loyalty  which 
he  felt  for  his  old  leader  made  the  shock  intensely  painful. 
It  was  the  first  great  wrench  of  his  life,  the  first  gap  which 
the  angel  Death  had  made  in  his  circle,  and  he  felt  numb- 
ed, and  beaten  down,  and  spiritless.  Well,  well ! I believe 
it  was  good  for  him  and  for  many  others  in  like  case  ; 
who  had  to  learn  by  that  loss,  that  the  soul  of  man  cannot 
stand  or  lean  upon  any  human  prop,  however  strong  and 
wise,  and  good  ; but  that  He  upon  whom  alone  it  can  stand 
and  lean  will  knock  away  all  such  props  in  his  own  wise 
and  merciful  way,  until  there  is  no  ground  or  stay  left  but 
Himself,  the  Rock  of  Ages,  upon  whom  alone  a sure  found- 
ation for  every  soul  of  man  is  laid. 

As  he  wearily  labored  at  his  line,  the  thought  struck 
him,  44  It  may  all  be  false,  a mere  newspaper  lie,”  and  he 
strode  up  to  the  recumbent  smoker. 

44  Let  me  look  at  the  paper,”  said  he. 

44  Nothing  else  in  it,”  answered  the  other,  handing  it  up 


270 


TOM  BROWN’S  SCHOOL-DAYS. 


to  him  listlessly.  “ Hullo,  Brown ! what’s  the  matter,  old 
fellow — ain’t  you  well  ? ” 

“ Where  is  it  ? ” said  Tom,  turning  over  the  leaves,  his 
hands  trembling  and  his  eyes  swimming,  so  that  he  could 
not  read. 

“ What  ? What  are  you  looking  for  ? ” said  his  friend, 
jumping  up  and  looking  over  his  shoulder. 

“ That — about  Arnold,”  said  Tom. 

“ Oh,  here,”  said  the  other,  putting  his  finger  on  the 
paragraph.  Tom  read  it  over  and  over  again ; there  could 
be  no  mistake  of  identity,  though  the  account  was  short 
enough. 

“ Thank  you,”  said  he  at  last,  dropping  the  paper.  “ I 
shall  go  for  a walk ; don’t  you  and  Herbert  wait  supper  for 
me.”  And  away  he  strode,  up  over  the  moor  at  the  back  of 
the  house  to  be  alone  and  master  his  grief  if  possible. 

His  friend  looked  after  him,  sympathizing  and  wonder- 
ing, and,  knocking  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe,  walked  over 
to  Herbert.  After  a short  parley,  they  walked  together 
up  to  the  house. 

“I’m  afraid  that  confounded  newspaper  has  spoiled 
Brown’s  fun  for  this  trip.” 

“ How  odd  that  he  should  be  so  fond  of  his  old  master,” 
said  Herbert.  Yet  they  also  were  both  public-school  men. 

The  two,  however,  notwithstanding  Tom’s  prohibition, 
waited  supper  for  him,  and  had  everything  ready  when  he 
came  back  some  half  an  hour  afterward.  But  he  could  not 
join  in  their  cheerful  talk,  and  the  party  was  soon  silent 
notwithstanding  the  efforts  of  all  three.  One  thing  only 
had  Tom  resolved,  and  that  was,  that  he  couldn’t  stay  in 
Scotland  any  longer;  he  felt  an  irresistible  longing  to  get 
to  Rugby,  and  then  home,  and  soon  broke  it  to  the  others 
who  had  too  much  tact  to  oppose. 

So  by  daylight  the  next  morning  he  was  marching 
through  Ross-shire,  and  in  the  evening  hit  the  Caledonian 
canal,  took  the  next  steamer,  and  traveled  as  fast  as  boat 
and  railway  could  carry  him  to  the  Rugby  station. 

As  he  walked  up  to  the  town,  he  felt  shy  and  afraid  of 
being  seen,  and  took  the  back  streets  ; why  he  didn’t  know, 
but  he  followed  his  instinct.  At  the  school-gates  he  made 
a dead  pause  ; there  was  not  a soul  in  the  quadrangle — all 
was  lonely,  and  silent,  and  sad.  So  with  another  effort  he 


finis.  271 

strode  through  the  quadrangle  and  into  the  school-house 
offices. 

He  found  the  little  matron  in  her  room  in  deep  mourn- 
ing ; shook  her  hand,  tried  to  talk,  and  moved  nervously 
about : she  was  evidently  thinking  of  the  same  subject  as 
he,  but  he  couldn’t  begin  talking. 

“Where  shall  I find  Thomas?  ” said  he  at  last,  getting 
desperate. 

“ In  the  servants’  hall,  I think,  sir.  But  won’t  you  take 
anything?”  said  the  matron,  looking  rather  disappointed. 

“ No,  thank  you,”  said  he,  and  strode  off  again  to  find 
the  old  Verger,  who  was  sitting  in  his  little  den  as  of  old, 
puzzling  over  hieroglyphics. 

He  looked  up  through  his  spectacles,  as  Tom  seized  his 
hand  and  wrung  it. 

“Ah ! you’ve  heard  all  about  it,  sir,  I see,”  said  he. 

Tom  nodded  and  then  sat  down  on  the  shoe-board,  while 
the  old  man  told  his  tale,  and  wiped  his  spectacles,  and 
fairly  flowed  over  with  quaint,  homely,  honest  sorrow. 

By  the  time  he  had  done,  Tom  felt  much  better. 

“ Where  is  he  buried,  Thomas  ? ” said  he  at  last. 

“Under  the  altar  in  the  chapel,  sir,”  answered  Thomas. 
“ You’d  like  to  have  the  key,  I dare  say.” 

“ Thank  you,  Thomas, — Yes,  I should  very  much.”  And 
the  old  man  fumbled  among  his  bunch,  and  then  got  up, 
as  though  he  would  go  with  him ; but  after  a few  steps 
stopped  short,  and  said,  “Perhaps  you’d  like  to  go  by 
yourself,  sir  ? ” 

Tom  nodded,  and  the  bunch  of  keys  was  handed  to  him, 
with  an  injunction  to  be  sure  and  lock  the  door  after  him, 
and  bring  them  back  before  eight  o’clock. 

He  walked  quickly  through  the  quadrangle  and  out  into 
the  close.  The  longing  which  had  been  upon  him  and 
driven  him  thus  far,  like  the  gad-fly  in  the  Greek  legends, 
giving  him  no  rest  in  mind  or  body,  seemed  all  of  a 
sudden  not  to  be  satisfied,  but  to  shrivel  up  and  pall. 

“Why  should  I go  on?  It’s  no  use,”  he  thought,  and 
threw  himself  at  full  length  on  the  turf,  and  looked  vague- 
ly and  listlessly  at  all  the  well-known  objects.  There  were 
a few  of  the  town  boys  playing  cricket,  their  wicket  pitched 
on  the  best  piece  in  the  middle  of  the  big^side  ground,  a 
sin  about  equal  to  sacrilege  in  the  eyes  of  a captain  of  the 


272  TOM  BBOWN'S  SCH00L:Dj1?& 

eleven.  He  was  very  nearly  getting  up  to  go  and  send 
them  off.  “Pshaw  ! they  won’t  remember  me.  They’ve 
more  right  there  than  I,”  he  muttered.  And  the  thought 
that  his  scepter  iiad  departed,  and  his  mark  was  wearing 
out,  came  home  to  him  for  the  first  time,  and  bitterly 
enough.  He  was  lying  on  the  very  spot  where  the  fights 
came  off ; where  he  himself  had  fought  six  years  ago  his 
first  and  last  battle.  He  conjured  up  the  scene  till  he 
could  almost  hear  the  shouts  of  the  ring,  and  East’s  whis- 
per in  his  ear ; and  looking  across  the  close  to  the  Doctor’s 
private  door,  half  expected  to  see  it  open,  and  the  tall 
figure  in  cap  and  gown  come  striding  under  the  elm-trees 
toward  him. 

No,  no  ! that  sight  could  never  be  seen  again.  There  was 
no  flag  flying  on  the  round  tower ! the  school-house  windows 
were  all  shuttered  up  s and  when  the  flag  went  up  again,  and 
the  shutters  came  down,  it  would  be  to  welcome  a stranger. 
All  that  was  left  on  earth  of  him  whom  he  had  honored, 
was  lying  cold  and  still  under  the  chapel  floor.  He  would 
go  in  and  see  the  place  once  more,  and  then  leave  it  once 
for  all.  New  men  and  new  methods  might  do  for  other 
people  ; let  those  who  would  worship  the  rising  star ; he  at 
least  v~ould  be  faithful  to  the  sun  which  had  set.  And  so 
he  got  up  and  walked  to  the  chapel  door  and  unlocked  it, 
fancying  himself  the  only  mourner  in  all  the  broad  land, 
and  feeding  on  his  own  selfish  sorrow. 

He  passed  through  the  vestibule,  and  then  paused  for  a 
moment  to  glance  over  the  empty  benches.  His  heart 
was  still  proud  and  high,  and  he  walked  up  to  the  seat 
which  he  had  last  occupied  as  a sixth-form  boy,  and  sat 
himself  down  there  to  collect  his  thoughts. 

And,  truth  to  tell,  they  needed  collecting  and  setting  in 
order  not  a little.  The  memories  of  eight  years  were  all 
dancing  through  his  brain,  and  carrying  him  about  whither 
they  would ; while  beneath  them  all,  his  heart  was  throbbing 
with  the  dull  sense  of  a loss  that  could  never  be  made  up  to 
him.  The  rays  of  the  evening  sun  came  solemnly  through 
the  painted  windows  above  his  head,  and  fell  in  georgeous 
colors  on  the  opposite  wall,  and  the  perfect  stillness  soothed 
his  spirit  by  little  and  little.  And  he  turned  to  the  pulpit, 
and  looked  at  it,  and  then  leaning  forward  with  his  head 
on  his  hands,  groaned  aloud.  “ If  he  could  only  have  seen 


FINIS. 


273 


the  Doctor  again  for  one  five  minutes ; have  told  him  all 
that  was  in  his  heart,  what  he  owed  to  him,  how  he  lov- 
ed and  reverenced  him,  and  would  by  God’s  help  follow 
his  steps  in  life  and  death,  he  could  have  borne  it  all  with- 
out a murmur.  But  that  he  should  have  gone  away  forever 
without  knowing  it  all,  was  too  much  to  bear.” — “ But  am 
I sure  that  he  does  not  know  it  all  ? ” — the  thought  made 
him  start — “ May  he  not  even  now  be  near  me,  in  this  very 
chapel  ? If  he  be,  am  I sorrowing  as  he  would  have  me 
sorrow — as  I should  wish  to  have  sorrowed  when  I shall 
meet  him  again  ? ” 

He  raised  himself  up  and  looked  around ; and  after  a 
minute  rose  and  walked  humbly  down  to  the  lowest  bench, 
and  sat  down  on  the  very  seat  which  he  had  occupied  on 
his  first  Sunday  at  Rugby.  And  then  the  old  memories 
rushed  back  again,  but  softened  and  subdued,  and  soothing 
him  as  he  let  himself  be  carried  away  by  them.  And  he 
looked  up  at  the  great  painted  window  above  the  altar,  and 
remembered  how  when  a little  boy  he  used  to  try  not  to 
look  through  it  at  the  elm-trees  and  rooks,  before  the  paint- 
ed glass  came — and  the  subscription  for  the  painted  glass, 
and  the  letter  he  wrote  home  for  money  to  give  to  it.  And 
there,  down  below,  was  the  very  name  of  the  boy  who  sat 
on  his  right  hand  on  that  first  day,  scratched  rudely  in  the 
oak  paneling. 

And  then  came  the  thought  of  all  his  old  school- fellows  ; 
and  form  after  form  of  boys,  nobler,  and  braver,  and  purer 
than  he,  rose  up  and  seemed  to  rebuke  him.  Could  he  not 
think  of  them,  and  what  they  had  felt  and  were  feeling, 
they  who  had  honored  and  loved  from  the  first  the  man 
whom  he  had  taken  years  to  know  and  love  ? Could  he 
not  think  of  those  yet  dearer  to  him  who  were  gone,  who 
bore  his  name  and  shared  his  blood,  and  were  now  without 
a husband  or  a father  ? Then  the  grief  which  he  began  to 
share  with  others  became  gentle  and  holy,  and  he  rose  up 
once  more  and  walked  up  the  steps  to  the  altar ; and  while 
the  tears  flowed  freely  down  his  cheeks,  knelt  down  hum- 
bly and  hopefully,  to  lay  down  there  his  share  of  a burden 
which  had  proved  itself  too  heavy  for  him  to  bear  in  his 
own  strength. 

Here  let  us  leave  him — where  better  could  we  leave  him 
than  at  the  altar  before  which  he  had  first  caught  a glimpse 


274 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL-BAYS. 


of  the  glory  of  his  birthright,  and  felt  the  drawing  of  the 
bond  which  links  all  living  souls  together  in  one  brother- 
hood— at  the  grave  beneath  the  altar  of  him  who  had 
opened  his  eyes  to  see  that  glory,  and  softened  his  heart  till 
it  could  feel  that  bond. 

And  let  us  not  be  hard  on  him,  if  at  that  moment  his 
soul  is  fuller  of  the  tomb  and  him  who  lies  there  than  of 
the  altar  and  Him  of  whom  it  speaks.  Such  stages  have 
to  be  gone  through,  I believe  by  all  young  and  brave  souls, 
who  must  win  their  way  through  hero-worship  to  the  wor- 
ship of  Him  who  is  the  King  and  Lord  of  heroes.  For  it 
is  only  through  our  mysterious  human  relationships,  through 
the  love  and  tenderness  and  purity  of  mothers,  and  sisters, 
and  wives,  through  the  strength  and  courage  and  wisdom 
of  fathers,  and  brothers,  and  teachers,  that  we  can  come  to 
the  knowledge  of  Him  in  whom  alone  the  love,  and  the 
tenderness,  and  the  purity,  and  the  strength,  and  the  cour- 
age, and  the  wisdom  of  all  these  dwell  for  ever  and  ever  in 
perfect  fullness. 


THE  END. 


